“Where the battle rages, there the loyalty of the soldier is proved.”
― Martin Luther
Do you have any idea as to what this picture is all about?
You think it’s just some sort of stem don’t you?
You are partially correct, it is a stem–sans all its leaves.
And you should know that this is not just any sort of stem!
This is one of almost 50 plants just like it.
Rows upon rows of “topped off” plants.
Topped off you ask?
Yes, as in eaten off.
As in all of my green, wax, bush, french beans have been pillaged.
Pillaged you ask?
As in decimated.
As in eaten to the nubs.
Do you remember this little fellow? I took this shot back in the fall.
“Oh how pretty”
“Oh how majestic”
I had mused as I watched the bucks and does come and go in our yard.
Little did I know of the impending treachery. . .
Well it now seems as if this little buck has called all his friends.
The antlers are long gone and this is the time of year that food is at its peak.
Food?
Yes, my food.
As in my garden.
UGH!!!!
I try to keep this garden of ours as organic as possible. The strongest stuff I use on pests is the poison I sprinkle on those d@m%ed fire ant mounds which ring the garden like the infamous ring of fire—quite fitting indeed.
Oh how I hate those evil little biting devils. . .
But after my rows of beans, my pepper plants now minus their tops, an entire cucumber plant MIA, crushed stalks of young corn and even branchy vines from my tomatoes all mysteriously disappearing—daily . . .
I’m mad.
Really mad.
Fighting mad.
Do you remember George C. Scott’s role as General George S. Paton?
Remember that opening fiery profanity laced monologue?
That man didn’t play.
Just ask the Germans.
And thank God for the Allies he didn’t mince words. . .
Well, by George S. Patton, it is now time for the big guns!!
As in, this means war!!!
Recently an old-timer (that’s what my husband calls the elderly men who have spent their lives working in the fields) came into my husband’s store recently and shared with him a tried and true little secret weapon that he swore by to ward off deer from ones garden. . .Irish Spring.
What you say?
As in Irish Spring, green, highly fragrant, soap??!!
Yep.
Supposedly the deer don’t like the smell.
We bought boxes of the soap and have cut slivers, much like Hansel and Grettle leaving little crumbs, surrounding the entire perimeter of the garden, plus up and down each and every row.
All the while I whistled the little sailor ditty from those iconic Irish Spring commercials.
Next, I went for the old standard pie pans.
Shock and awe.
Clinking, clanging and banging in the breeze. We tied 15 pans all around the garden. They’re hung in tress, from the tomato cages, and even from the bean poles.
And then there was the non poisonous pest granules which are spread on the ground, not the plants. It has an irritating effect on the nostrils of varmints large and small.
Hummmmm.
Yeah, and I’ve got some swamp land for sale. . .the jury is still out on the granules.
But— there is a secret weapon.
I don’t know his name yet.
But he is two faced.
He’s doubly mean
And he’s doubly bad.
Plus he smells.
Smells you ask?
Yes.
Stinks to high heaven.
As in he’s been doused with perfume.
I figured a good dousing of perfume might signal that a human just may be lurking in and around the beans.
Fingers crossed.
My only other recourse. . . send my husband out all night with a spot light.
Somehow I don’t think he’d be too keen on that thought. . .
I’ll keep you posted. . .
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