Folks, this month I find myself at war with nature. And so far it looks like nature is winning
Last night I was awoken by the sound of crashing from right outside the bedroom window. I looked out to see half of one of my tomato plants lying on the ground, while the other half was steadily being chomped by a full sized whitetail. Unruffled, the deer gave me a not particularly apologetic look before wandering over to poop on the lawn.
I suppose at least the deer are nice to watch, unlike the caterpillars we saw earlier in the season. The lesson we learned then is that while a single caterpillar is interesting to look at and potentially even cute in a creepy crawly kind of way, when that same caterpillar is accompanied by several thousand of his friends and relations it’s really kind of gross.
Meanwhile, as summer has hit its stride over the last couple of weeks it’s become increasingly important to sleep with the window open. At least it is if you’re me. It’s something that was driven into me by my grandmother; a woman who had tremendous belief in the health benefits of fresh air. Mind you, she also believed that if you ate apple seeds a tree would grow inside you, and that you could never have too much slightly used Christmas wrapping paper. But when it comes to fresh air, you know, I think she had a point.
A few lungs full of the evening air, redolent with the scents of roses and honeysuckle and carried through the bedroom window on the gentlest of zephyrs, lulls you to sleep like a half bottle of cheap Scotch on an empty stomach. But staying asleep, well, that’s a different matter, because sometime around 4 a.m., just as the sun is starting to sneak over the horizon, Mother Nature lets go with a positive cacophony of squawks and screeches as the magpies in our backyard prepare to greet the day.
Now don’t get me wrong, I am a big fan of birds. I especially like them roasted, with gravy and new potatoes. But I speak as someone who finds it increasingly hard to stay asleep over the sound of his own snoring, so I could really do without any outside interference.
My final brush with nature (so far) has come in the form of a merry band of wasps who have set up home underneath our deck in an area that is both annoyingly close to the back door and inaccessible for wasp spray unless I’m prepared to go to the lengths of removing a couple of planks to allow me to get at them. I’ve set up a system where I sit in a lawnchair every afternoon and try to hit the wasps with a fly swatter as they come and go. It’s a simple task, but it involves quite a lot of swearing, because most of the time the wasps refuse to sit still and accept their fate. I suppose, on the plus side, it gives the neighbours something to talk about, but I can’t help but feel that somehow this is going to end badly.
