Deer Me!

When we first moved here, I was somewhat disappointed that wildlife didn't come leaping through our yard every morning. I liked the idea of sipping coffee on the porch while innocent, wide- eyed deer meandered across the freshly mowed grass, with their wobbly new fawns following closely behind. Yet, I was rarely greeted with any movement whatsoever except for an occasional wren or woodpecker that flitted among the oak trees.

That all changed once we got our garden planted. It was like a giant billboard announcing free vegetables and yummy green things. Soon I started spying a white tail bouncing off into the woods, determined tracks in the garden soil, and bold does skirting the yard waiting for a chance at the smorgasbord.

One evening they wiped out an entire row of okra.
And my husband loves his okra.
If it had been hunting season, his camo would have been on him faster than a cheeta on a baby hippo.
As a result, we would be having venison with our okra.

But, as things are, the only way to really save our garden is to keep the critters OUT. So, we went to the local hardware store and filled our cart with all the accessories for an electric fence. Before going to the checkout, we calculated the expense. There was $150 worth of deer deterrent in our basket. We looked at one another and said "no way!" and put it all back on the shelf.

Now...what was Plan B?

That was when we came home and put our scarecrow Samuel up. Taped colorful pinwheels to his pipe hands and made him rotate in the breeze. We also took advice of some locals who assured us that foil pie tins were the best thing going. We tied some in various spots of the garden and they banged around in the wind, making a noise that could even scare Bigfoot.

Did it work?

For awhile. But soon the okra that had started regrowth began looking like a bad barber had scalped them in the night. My husband fumed.

Plan C happened last night. A motion detector light. Which my husband assured me was only a ten minute job, but which actually stretched out a good 34 minutes and 14 seconds.  (But who's keeping time?)
My part was hunkering down and entering the garden, pretending I was a deer. His part was twisting, moving, setting the buttons a hundred and twelve times until he got it to come on, stay on, be focused correctly. Whew! I was almost ready to run off into the woods like a deer by the time that light was properly installed!

This morning we weighed the results. It was hard to tell if the okra had been sheared any shorter and it was so dusty that we couldn't find any prints. I would like to think that Plan C worked, but I'm doubtful. But I've learned one thing for sure:

Keeping deer out of the garden is about as easy as keeping me out of the Hershey bars.

Home

Sometimes, when I'm not paying any attention because I'm reading a novel. Exercising cleaning house eating nachos, reality hits me over the head and I wonder to myself, "What on Earth am I doing here?" Why have I packed up and left my hometown and nice house and family members to cram myself into a little cabin that has no bath tub or dishwasher or central air conditioning? Why am I sitting in a little chair in a little room with little fan?

Why?

Because I have big dreams...

Because the birds here already know my name. The grass recognizes my footsteps. The trees celebrate my touch. The sky welcomes my wishes.

And everything that was ever important about the road behind me is now but a memory. Another life.

As much as I tried to deny it, there was always that pressure of trying to be like everyone else. That little voice that said, " You must wear cute clothes, buy nice dishes, carry a cool purse, impress the neighbors and expand your circle of friends."
Did any of those things actually make me happy? First of all, cute clothes on a fifty- something woman is about as easy to come by as a giant sack of gold. Nice dishes did not make meatloaf taste any better, I never found a cute purse for less than $80, and when it came right down to the truth- my neighbors didn't care whether I drove a rusty pickup truck or a scooter. As long as I minded my business, mowed my yard and kept my music at a pleasant volume.

As for friends? Lots of friends don't make you a better person. They just make you a popular person. And I find that the less people you have to please on a daily basis makes it easier to focus on true kindness.
Plus, I've come to realize that some people just can't handle simple, no-drama, no-frills, no-bendingoverbackwardtomakeanimpression. They are too intent on finding that fabulous purse.
Or being something they believe will make them happy.

I am happy here. Truly.
I go barefoot everyday, wear my pajama pants till after my evening shower, let my hair dry naturally,
and wrap myself in the sweetness of nature.

Have you ever really seen a bluebird up close? The color is intense, glowing, bluer than the bluest sky you've ever witnessed. It takes your breath away. It is life with wings.

Have you ever sat in a lawn chair at night and let the darkness embrace you? But then, instead of being afraid, you look up at that giant umbrella of stars and peace fills your veins. Gratitude gives you goosebumps. God gives you reasons to be here.

Have you ever heard the music of wind through the pine trees, the ping of raindrops on a tin roof, seen the clouds of dust that wrens kick up during their bath?

Have you ever stared with amazement of how high and fluffy and white the clouds can be, how graceful a simple buzzard can fly, how wonderfully noisy a quiet night can be?

I would be missing all of this if I had stayed in my house, my hometown, my familiar path. I would not be the recipient of big dreams, small adventures and life as it was meant to be. My only regret is that I didn't do this when I was 25. Or 30. Or even last year....

Sometimes, when I'm not paying attention, reality hits me over the head... and I realize I am finally home.

The Perfect Storm

Although it is technically a garage, we have spent the past few weeks barn raising. From dirt work to     roofing, we've once again formed a matrimonial team that wields hammers, saws, and a vision. Through the years we have somehow managed to remodel, build and create pieces of our dreams.


It's a miracle really.
...That he hasn't taken the hammer to my head or that I haven't pulled the ladder out from under him. Because it's a typical case of left brain/ right brain. He is focused on numbers, logic,reasoning. I prefer creativity, emotion and imagery. And sometimes those two brains working together create a volatile and explosive situation that no one should be subjected to.

I admit, I probably have no earthly business being a part of the process. It requires perfection, calculation, determination and critical thinking. Those kinds of things hurt my brain. So much that I want to run far, far away until its time to pick paint colors and buy pretty pillows.

I have had to grit my teeth and bite my tongue every time my husband has figured and refigured, leveled and re-leveled, squared, aligned and shimmed. "Just put a freakin nail in it, will ya?" I say to myself. We aren't building a rocket ship here!

But, you know, I have come to understand that to him this is his rocket ship. That he not only expects perfection from himself  (and other unwilling  participants), but that he takes immense pride in his finished project. That what he designs and builds and brings to fruitation is a reflection of him. And he expects it to work well, wear well and look amazing.

I guess I'm pretty lucky that he doesn't expect the same mathematical perfection from me. My height, weight and body mass index hasn't been approved by the AMA, FDA or Hollywood since I was 18.

It's a funny thing, too, how rules change when you team up on home improvement projects. Normally I am not allowed to use a hammer. This is due to the fact that I like to hang pictures and things on walls ...and my right brain never seems to get the nail placed correctly the first, second, or third time.
Drywall suffers from extreme abuse. Which ultimately leads to hammer privileges being revoked.

Have you ever had to resort to hammering a nail with the TV remote? Not good.

Yet, when it was time to build this garage, I was suddenly let loose like some freak from the movie Saw. I was allowed drills and mallets and crow bars and even a pneumatic nail gun! Yes, an air powered weapon that shoots three inch nails at the speed of light! I also got to man the miter saw on occasion. A jagged blade spinning at high velocity in the vicinity of fingers and limbs!

And to think my innocent little hammer rights were refused....

The hardest part is over. We've survived the heat and insects and each others wacky brains... so far.
The worst thing is knowing we still have an addition to put on the house. I'm not quite sure I'm ready for another abuse to my right brain. One rocket ship a year is enough to make a girl go crazy...

But, I try to see the positive side. My husband and I have gotten to spend the last few months together every day. We have built a barn. We have advanced our dream.

And, although it may be only temporary- I got my hammer back!

The Pull of The Moon

Sometimes in my dreams, I am back in my old house again. I walk the floors like a ghost, the evening sun through the blinds making patterns on the soft carpet.

There is no one there. Not even furniture. Just a familiar fragrance of lost days...a feeling that I've left something behind. A memory unfinished, a day not quite done. Perhaps it is just the need to say goodbye, to touch what was so quickly abandoned, to embrace and accept the conclusion. It could be a type of home sickness. A need for old routine.

Or perhaps it is just the pull of the moon....

I tip toe down the hallway - the three doors open to bedrooms where once my children slept in sweet dreams and old quilts...their breathing like music.





In my dreams I see visions of unmade beds, overnight friends, and laughter that made the the house dance.

I go into my bedroom and remember well the nights I lay awake in bed, listening to the rhythmic snore of my husband beside me, nights waiting for my children to return home from a date, stormy evenings when lightning struck a bit too close for comfort.

I see the closet I rarely organized, the big tub I hated to clean, and dust on the imaginary dresser that my mother-in-law would never have tolerated in her own home.

In the kitchen, can still smell baked lasagna, feel the joy of new dishes, and remember the fun of baking cookies with the grand kids. I recall burnt toast, Thanksgiving turkeys, and the little gray field mouse that could never be caught.



Christmas trees, party lights, theme parties, Halloween - in my dreams they all come thundering into my head at once...a loud hum of unforgotten days that resonate like a beating heart.

I step outside...walk to the edge of the pond-  suddenly seeing my kids when they were small, pulling on fishing poles, picking black-eyed- Susan's, skipping rocks till their arms hurt.

I look up. And the sky is just as big and blue and real in my dreams as it was the day I left .

But this is just a house to me now. I do not know it anymore.
I no longer need my dreams to take me here.



Because I realize that home is where the people I love live, visit, and play.

And where the pull of the moon finds you truly happy.