Week one is pretty much done. Tied up in a bow. Blowed on by the endless yet gentle winds that push the sailboats across the view from our back deck. Champagne in hand, we watch them leave our sight.
This week, we relished in our new neighbourhood pets. Deer. Many, many deer. Deer that sneak through cedar hedges, eat our strawberries not yet born, eat our fruit trees (fruit yet not known to us) and magically make our perfectly plum-coloured bush disappear in a single gulp. Whoosh.
We are also in the process of stripping our yard of blackberry bush babies (a flock of sharp-thorned branches reaching for the sky, the world, the universe. Yes, we know the truth - they plan to assimilate us all. Be warned ye of sensitive prickle-proof skin!) Dig, hoe, dig, hoe, dig, dig, dig and still their roots cling to the ceiling of hell. Welcome to Victoria they whisper to us while giggling so loud the deer scatter and jump 6 feet over the fence to our neighbours reclaimed meadow.
While growing up, my dad used to sing "home, home on the range... where the deer and the antelope play... where seldom is heard, a discouraging word...and the skies are not cloudy all day."
Deer do not play, they devour!
Just not blackberry bushes.