The deer wait for us in the early summer evening, several young ones with the mother doe and her Bambi. They carefully step down to our flower garden and sample the smorgasbord of bright flowers and foliage. A nip of the bright red Verbena, that the gardener says is deer resistant but if you ask me it looks more irresistible. A careful cut of every wine-colored flower off of the bush they call Wine and Roses. The pretty blue perennials also mislabeled deer resistant because every last happy flower has been unceremoniously consumed.
The only saving grace is the Spanish lavender, strong, tall and untouched, the lilac and violet Salvia, leaning in the wind – these flowers remain, untouched. They’ve crossed the deer who have crossed us.
I see more Spanish lavender in the future on the hill. The Spanish will retake these gardens and cross the deer. I watch a hummingbird duck in and out; a bee float into the fragrant Salvia nearby.
These are the survivors. These are those the deer can’t cross.
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