The scene from this evening. What you see here on the leftward side are a number of lights pointed directly into the area from which the deer are coming, and surrounding the area where my tomatoes are. I’m going for the “deer in the headlights” effect. (The lights on the rightward side emanate from the famous Greenhouse Apartment at Highwater Hill.)
What you do not hear here but trust me, is there, is a wave of compressed air traveling like waves in the ocean through the humid night atmosphere at a frequency that hurts my ears.
And since there’s no such thing as smell-o-vision yet, you are going to have to trust me again when I tell you it stinks out there.
M0th8rF*&king gawl-danged stupid deer have eaten nearly all of my tomatoes. Not just the plants. They are cherry picking the tomatoes. I see the half-eaten ones on the ground. DUDE!! That is so impolite. Stupid f*&^ing deer. I’ll show you who knows how to use electricity and chemicals. I even hung up a wind chime on that cedar tree. Run into that! I dare you!!
“Marica? Are you okay? You seem a bit … aggravated.”
“AND I’LL TELL YOU ANOTHER THING! YOU JUST WAIT UNTIL NOVEMBER! You keep November in mind as you munch on my tomatoes you stupid deer. I’ll see you on a bun.”*
“Oh! Sorry Missy! Sorry Rocky! What’s up?”
“Nothing much with us. You?”
“Oh. Nothing out of the ordinary. Typical July vermin problems. How are you this evening?”
“Well– thanks for asking, Marica. We do have a question. My Dear Friend and I haven’t seen that long-haired hippy-dog Gilbert all day. To where has he gotten off? I mean, off to where has he gotten?”
“Oh. I guess I should have been more explicit this morning as Gil and Rocky were saying their goodbyes and you were still lounging in your box. Gilbert and Daughter C and Jordan have removed themselves from the Farm.”
“Removed to where?”
“Oh, my! Well, I say! Though I’d known him but a short time, I always thought Gilbert had it in him to rise to a distinguished position– to Oxford no less! Good for him! I say! Oxford needs more Hippies! Loosen them up a bit. Hip Hip and all! Good for Gil!”
“What? Am I missing something?”
“Oxford, Mississippi, Missy. Gilbert has moved to That School Up North.”
“OH!… OH MY! HE’S A REBEL????????”
*Sorry, Miss M. I Couldn’t help myself. It was a flourish.