I’ve always been a fan of deer. Deer hunters piss me off. How can you shoot such a majestic creature? The way they hop through the woods, so graceful. Sure, it’s a little scary when they dart across the road at dusk, but seriously, that’s our fault for building roads through their land.

That’s how I thought until last night, when I came home, high from how great the swim went.

These used to be my tomatoes:

And my lush beets and spinach: (Not pictured: plastic fence that has been trampled.)

Gone. Every last one. Gone. Eaten. Left untouched: radishes and Brussels Sprouts, vegetables I’m not interested in eating but planted just because I was told they were easy. I’m so pissed. I actually had trouble sleeping last night because I was so upset. My next door neighbor, who fed Micki for me over the weekend, talked to me this morning and told me she was sad because her cat died on Saturday. I empathized for a minute, and then I was all, “I know how you feel, because I lost my beets!”

If I see a deer anywhere near me for the rest of the summer, I’m going to shoot it between the eyes. I no longer have any sympathy for those jerks. All the respect I paid them over the years, and this is how they repay me. So I guess after work today, I’m going to have to bend over my sore back and shoulders and pick up the pieces. Anyone have any suggestions? Is it too late to plant anew?

One thing that helps is that I’m currently listening to “The Worst Hard Time” in my car. It gives me a little perspective. Compared to what the homesteaders lost in the dust bowl of the 1930’s, a few eaten greens is not going to kill me. Back then, families lost their entire gardens when they were burned by the static electricity in the dust storms. And that was all they had to eat. I’m still in the position where I can pick up some pre-washed spinach at Stop & Shop. But still, if I see those doe eyes looking at me, my face is going to be the last thing those doe eyes ever see.