Years ago we bought a whole bunch of tulip bulbs and planted them around our berm in the fall. We thought we were making a garden display of beautiful colors. Instead, it turns out that we were providing a delicious midnight feast for the deer in the spring. Some tulips always came up, but it seemed that each year, the tulip salad bar got more popular with our Bambi friends. We found something called “Deer Scram” and sprinkled it liberally around the tulips. This concoction consists of animal blood, meat meal (whatever that is), garlic, pepper and clove and is designed to give the deer a reason to pause and go to the neighbor’s tulip salad bar instead. It only lasts until it rains, however, which necessitated us remembering to reapply the stuff. Eventually, the tulips lost heart in the whole existential crisis of their lives and mostly quit showing up. A few years ago, we had all the plantings on the berm removed (it had become a wildly successive weed garden) and seeded it back to grass.

I took this photo of the only two tulips in our yard this year. They are volunteers that have been showing up in the same spot year after year, apparently under the radar of the deer (shhh…don’t tell!). I salute them and give hearty thanks to the Lord of the Tulips for making something so ravishingly beautiful. Spring is a fetching lass, indeed.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning. Thanks for reading my blog. Assuming someone is, in fact, reading it.

‘Tis a jay of blue,
Looking at peels of orange,
Near, and yet so far.

It’s my last haiku,
At the very last minute,
Of this Tuesday night.

It is hard to quit
Counting syllables to make
More and more haiku.

Help! I’m trapped in a
cycle of five seven five –
Writing bad haikus.

Delete this I must
Probably very early
Tomorrow morning.

Phew!

What did you see first –
The Grand Tetons range, or the
Moose in the foreground?

By the way, the last line sounds like a great book title to me: The Moose in the Foreground. Would it be a mystery? Romance? Historical fiction? Memoir?

I’ll probably delete this in the morning after I’ve heard from a number of you about what kind of book that would be.

Tiny purple bloom,
The world is in need of you.
So saith the Lord.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning. So saith the Lynn.

A throng of turtles
Talking and telling tall tales,
Tanning on timbers.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning. Tut tut!

Seen only in spring,
Only in our fair city,
The dwarf trout lily

‘Tis a rare flower, indeed!

I’ll probably delete this in the morning, pondering why a flower name should include the word “trout.”

A chickadee sings
Bringing light and full joy to
His dark silhouette

I’m sorry to double up today, but about 5 versions of this one kept showing up in my drafts and I thought I’d published it already. I couldn’t find it in my blog, however. Tell me if you’ve already seen and read this one, though. I think we were traveling when I tried to publish it and the upload might have failed. Oh, the mysteries of technology!!

I’ll probably delete this in the morning? I feel I’m in a time warp, so I’m not sure.

I’ve got a busy week and a half ahead with little time for blogging, but I don’t want to abandon the habit altogether. So how about this? I’ll post a photo (or two) (or more) each day along with the Haiku O’ Day. If you hate this idea, let me know and I’ll file your response appropriately.

Angel food Cake
Leftover egg whites
Made a cake fit for angels.
We ate it instead.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning, wishing we hadn’t finished that cake quite so quickly.

Bud. It’s a small word that practically explodes with meaning. Definitions abound!

Bud: A name or nickname. Bud Cort. “Bud,” Rudy’s friend on The Cosby Show.

Bud: Friend. Also, “buddy.”

Bud: Marijuana. “I found him outside, smoking some bud.” I don’t tend to hang out in circles that use the word this way, just so you know. I discovered that usage this morning while doing the kind of intensive research you can expect from this blogger.

Bud: A compact growth on a plant that develops into a leaf, flower, or shoot. Let’s focus (ha ha) on this one.

I took my long-distance zoom lens off the camera this morning and exchanged it for the regular kit lens. For weeks and weeks I’ve been wandering around looking for birds, who tend to fly away if you get too close. But when I fix my eyes on things that are far away, I tend to miss the things that are near, things that I can walk right up to with my camera and get close-ups of, things which neither move, nor fear me. Hence, buds.

Have you ever thought about how amazing buds are? Or, moving farther back, the seeds from which they came? Seeds plus air, sunshine, dirt and water turn into incredibly diverse plants which feed us, shelter us, clothe us, and beautify our world. When you go out for your walk today, look for buds – microcosms of the adult plants and fruits that they will become. Look and be thankful for the great God of the universe who plants seeds and brings forth buds – in the soil and in our souls.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning while contemplating all the things that are budding in my life.

When I went to work a few days ago, my friend told me she had something to show me. We went out back and quietly crept around the front so I could see the momma duck who had made a nest out by their front door. We whispered and stayed a respectful distance away, since momma had been spooked before and left the nest. During one of these absences, it was discovered that she is sitting on 10 eggs.

I remember what it was like, sitting on the old nest. Was it really nearly 32 years ago that I gave birth to my first little birdie? I had 5 nesting times for 6 hatchlings.

Last year I watched a robin out on our balcony raising 3 youngsters in the confines of one little nest. At first you couldn’t even see them, but you could hear them calling out for food. Pretty soon both Mr. and Mrs. Robin were working full-time to feed their little ones. It was interesting seeing them tag team on the Feed Our Babies Project.

One day I looked out the window and realized only one little robin was left – his nest mates, mother and father, had all gone. I was determined to see him take his first flight and cleared my already-clear schedule for the day. Don’t worry, Robin – I won’t leave you alone! He kept standing up on the edge of the nest, flapping his wings experimentally, and then he’d lose courage and step back into the nest. I urged him on silently: “Go! Go! Go! You can do it!” Finally, I decided to give him an assist. While he was perched once again on the edge of the nest, I started to open the door. That was all it took – instinct took over and he went from the nest to the balcony railing and from there to the nearby tree. I was so proud. So very proud.

I could not help but remember when my own fledglings left the nest one by one, the last one just a few years ago. I’m so proud. So very proud.

I’ll probably delete this in the morning.

I’m short on time today, so I’ll have to go for one of my back-up ideas for when I’m low on ideas and content. Gather ’round for the story about King Meanie.

Years ago, we noticed that we had a lot of squirrels in the back yard and it was quite entertaining to see them chasing each other around like siblings having a good time playing tag. But as we watched more closely, we began to see something a little more sinister happening. One of the squirrels was, in fact, a little bit of a bully. Each time a squirrel would approach the bird feeder to get some food, the bully would chase it away so he could keep the food supply for himself. We named him King Meanie. Of course, all squirrels look more or less the same, so we couldn’t always tell which one was King Meanie until he started in with his bullying.

But then something very fitting happened. We started putting out peanuts (in the shell) for the squirrels to keep them away from the bird feeder. This didn’t work, by the way – oh, how young and naive we were. King Meanie kept up his usual practice of making sure he got most of the food supply. He started looking a little ragged around the edges. Then it became clear he was losing hair. We found out that squirrels are actually not supposed to eat peanuts – it leads to hair loss. None of the other squirrels suffered this fate.

The refrain to the Gilbert and Sullivan song, “Let the Punishment Fit the Crime,” seems appropriate here:

My object all sublime
I shall achieve in time –
To let the punishment fit the crime –
The punishment fit the crime;
And make each prisoner pent
Unwillingly represent
A source of innocent merriment!
Of innocent merriment!

King Meanie was indeed the source of innocent merriment for us. I don’t think he ever repented of his wicked ways, either.

Sadly, I don’t have a photo of King Meanie in his woebegone state, but here’s another squirrel who looks just like him before he lost his hair.

Don’t you think he has somewhat of an evil glint in his eye?

I’ll probably delete this in the morning.