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June In My Flower Garden
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Look, Mildred
“Look Mildred,” I said as I walked towards the yearling deer who was munching on grass just outside the fence near our garden. Not a deer-proof fence. Just a fence. I don’t know for sure that her name was Mildred, but it seemed to fit. “You aren’t supposed to be here. You’re supposed to be in the wilderness someplace, not casing my vegetables.” Mildred tore up another mouthful of grass, began to chomp on it and seemed to ponder what I was saying. “It’s nothing personal. Or deer-onal. I just don’t want you to eat my garden. Okay?” By this time, I was about a free throw away from her. I looked down for a moment and when I looked up, she was gone. I saw her bounding across the corn field to a well-known hangout across the street where she and a dozen or so of her kind congregate in the evenings. Probably waiting for us to go to bed so they can sneak over to our place again. To be honest, we have been pretty lucky, considering the number of deer in our area. I use some dee