Oh, Deer

A recent Sunday column, now dubbed "Post It Notes" on Westport Patch:

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They look so adorable, with their gentle faces and the babies trailing behind. What harm could they possibly do?

A lot, I've discovered. Looks can be deceiving.

I'm speaking of the deer, of course, and the devastation they wreck in summer time when every garden offers them plenty of pickens. My grandmother used to gripe about her deer and I thought she was nuts. "But they're so cute!" I'd argue. So what if they nibbled on a  few leaves here and there?

Now that I live here, where the deer may just have us outnumbered, I get it. And I don't know why, but for some reason, my garden seems to be a prime destination for all the four-legged creatures around.

I've got a row of lovely purple roses. They put on an abundant display of color about a month ago, and were preparing for a second burst — until yesterday. I went outside and discovered that deer had chomped off every single rose bud on all nine plants. I nearly cried.

And in the backyard, I've got what's trying to be a vegetable patch. I've already lost two huge clusters of fat tomatoes to the greedy buggers. It's as if the head deer calls all his buddies to say, "Hey fellas, the salad bar's open again! The nice lady even planted swiss chard for us this year!"

They mow down the lettuce, shear off the tops of the broccoli. They even eat the flowers and leaves off a patch of hostas — plants that they bypass in almost every yard on the street.

I'm a pretty fair person, generally speaking. And I'm willing to share. If the deer need some snacks, they're welcome to the pine trees, a little holly, maybe even some boxwood. I'd even be willing to donate my roses to the cause, if they'd just eat the blooms that are already on their way out.

But noooo.

They've got to have the baby blossoms just days away from opening, the ones that I've nurtured and cultivated and anticipated for weeks. It's downright rude.

This is the thanks I get for stocking the salad bar?

I've tried everything to dissuade the deer. Malorgonite scattered around the base of the roses. Planting lavender. Wolf urine. Last summer my neighbor told me a friend of hers scattered bars of Irish Spring around her garden and she stayed deer-free. So she and I bought a lifetime supply of the stuff and dangled bars of soap on fences and trees. It looked completely crazy. And after a few weeks, the deer decided they didn't mind the chipper Irish Spring scent so much after all.

Then there are the various sprays. The one I tried smells like vomit mixed with rotten eggs – a combination which the beasts supposedly find unappetizing. It does seem to keep them away for a week or so, but if I don't reapply it religiously, I end up with shorn rose bushes. And the problem is, I've got to smell it, too.

What really gets my goat is that my Irish Spring friend across the street has roses, hostas and utterly unprotected rows of tomato plants, which the deer leave alone. Why? Why?

I don't wish the monsters on her or anyone else, but I'd be more than thrilled if the darn deer would saunter right past my yard the next time they go grazing.

This salad bar is closed.

Rotten Tomatoes

Okay. Fine. So the backyard vegetable garden was pretty much a complete bust. Yeah, I know I was all excited about it. Cocky even. This was how the conversation with the husband went last Spring:

JARVIS: Why are you spending so much time and money on the garden? Last year all you did was feed the rabbit and deer. We didn't even get a tomato out of it.

ME: That's not true! We got lots of tomatoes. And this year, I'm adding the deer fence. Plus, with this amazing mulch I got, we're going to have so many vegetables, I probably won't have to go to the grocery store for weeks on end.

JARVIS: Sure. It worked out to about $32 a carrot last year. How much was all that mulch anyway? I really don't understand why you had to buy all of that.

ME: (Impervious to his small-mindedness, I ignored him. He doesn't appreciate the value of working your own land, of teaching your children where their food comes from, of tasting juicy tomatoes that weren't shipped from Chili and coated with who-know-what sort of pesticides.)

So, fine. He was right, dammit. All of you women out there (or at least the three who are reading this) must know how much it pains me to put that in writing.

It probably did average about $32 a carrot this year, too. Well, it would have if I'd even grown carrots. Instead we had, yes, a single, enormous zucchini (too tough to eat), a few eggplants (which I'm not sure what to do with) and many, many rotten tomatoes. I don't really think it was my fault, exactly. My fellow local gardeners were all complaining of the same thing. It was all the blasted rain in June. And I have a sneaking suspicion that the deer were still getting in. Something was eating all the zucchini blossoms.

I did, however, grow a fair amount of arugula and basil. Can't complain about that. Every time I used an herb over the summer, I waved it in front of Jarv's face and reminded him that they're $3 a bunch at the store. Probably even $4.50 at Whole Foods! He was pleased as punch. At this rate, I'll have amortized down the cost of the garden by.... August, 2011.

But, hey, I've already bounced back. Can't get one lousy crop get me down. Here's Plan B: I'm ripping out all of the dead vegetable plants and filling the plot with hundreds of bulbs to make a nice little cutting garden in the spring. It will be spectacular! The house will be filled with daffodils and tulips. I'm sure Jarv will understand it's a very worthwhile investment. Foolproof. I'm confident it won't average out to more than $12 a flower.

$20 at the most.

Mud Pie

Look at all that beautiful dirt! It's pretty gorgeous, right? Actually, it's not dirt at all. It's compost. Last year this poor veggie patch was more like a rock garden, despite the amount of back-breaking work I put into it. I tore up all that grass by hand. (Not as easy as it sounds, I learned.) I dumped in 40-pound bags of fertilizer and peat moss and hauled all those heavy rocks from across the yard to make the border. 

Despite all that, the results were unimpressive. Here and there a plant sprouted which was quickly nibbled up by the rabbits, squirrels and deer. At least our neighborhood rodents were well fed.

This year, however, there's a new game plan. The rocky soil is out, the expensive compost is in. This stuff is amazing: rich, black and soft. Completely rock-free. I've put it around the hydrangeas, the clematis, the pansies, the butterfly bushes. We've taken to calling it garden crack. Can't get enough of it.

Another important addition this year: I'm adding an anti-deer fence. It's not the prettiest thing,  which is unfortunate, since the garden sits smack in the middle of the back yard. But I'll suffer through an unsightly barrier in exchange for some juicy cucumbers and fresh baby lettuce. I'm already dreaming of those mouth-watering tomato-basil pastas I'm going to make. There's nothing better than a home-grown organic tomato in the summer. Except a margarita to go with it.

Jarv figures with everything I've spent on this crazy project, it will work out to about $6 a carrot. He's probably right. But it's well worth it.

I told you we knew how to party out here in the 'burbs.