No Sunday Puzzler because, frankly, I couldn't think of a good one. With the book due tomorrow, I'm surprised I can think of ANYTHING. But the "every" part of the blog title must be respected, and there is one tidbit I want to share before the snow recedes completely into memory.
Could bunnies eat a tree? The budding ... well, I wasn't sure what it was. I called it a "Scotch pine" because a Scotch pine had been nearby, once. But it died, so I was grateful to salvage what I considered its progeny, this seedling. It sprouted nearby, and looked Scotch pinish. After a few seasons it was a hale two feet and growing fast.
Then gone. After a heavy snowfall. I kept searching for it, which was sad. The stick I had placed beside it, to keep me from stepping on the thing when it was tiny, was right there, a tip-off. Hungry rabbits, or maybe scavenging deer. We've had deer—they eat our lilies. Ravenous squirrels—I wouldn't put it past them. Hate those squirrels, they're capable of anything. Still ... a prickly tree. You'd have to be really hungry to eat it. I entertained theories. Malicious neighborhood children? Doubtful. Though they'd have to be psychic to go after that particular tree. I gave up hope. Besides, they'd have to go outside, and kids don't do that anymore.
Whatever the cause, the tree was gone and never coming back. Trees don't get lost.
Then the snow melted, and I noticed what I at first thought was the green stump of this tree. Hope! I ran into the garage and grabbed a spray bottle of Deer-Snu, or whatever the liquid fence is called—I figured, protect the pathetic remnant from further assault. Another few years of watching it slowly grow back. That's life. Sigh, start again.
On my knees, pushing the wet slushy snow away, spray bottle in hand. I discovered, it wasn't a stump. The whole tree had simply been crushed under the snow. It was horizontal, pressed against the ground. I brushed the snow off, and it sproinged back up, good as new.
I didn't know trees did that.
Nothing makes you appreciate something like fearing you lost it. Here's hoping that your early spring is a time of unexpected rebirth. I don't know if finding a lost tree counts as rebirth, but I choose to count it.
We have a young tree in bad shape right now. You may have given us an idea of what to do. Well written anyhow.ReplyDelete
Rabbits can ruin the bottom of some bushes.Delete
Good luck with the book!
"Nothing makes you appreciate something like fearing you lost it." INDEED! Sounds like those Tea Party loons (or is it the entire Republican Party now?) lamenting the loss of their country. Problem is they don't appreciate it so much as remember it fondly as it never was. And thankfully never will be again.ReplyDelete
Conifers don't lose their foliage over winter, so they've evolved to bend under the weight of snow.ReplyDelete
Your little tree reminds me of Charlie Brown's X-mas tree, how it bent sideways when decorated with a single ornament.
deer in your lilies? just be grateful they're not unicorns.ReplyDelete
"Once upon a sunny morning a man who sat in a breakfast nook looked up from his scrambled eggs to see a white unicorn with a golden horn quietly cropping the roses in the garden. The man went up to the bedroom where his wife was still asleep and woke her. "There's a unicorn in the garden," he said. "Eating roses." She opened one unfriendly eye and looked at him...
well finish the storyDelete
You should buy the book. "Fables for Our Time."Delete
Nothing like some James Thurber to start your day :-)Delete
Life is full of surprises. Learned 2 new things today before noon: that evergreens can spring back to life and that salt-water fish drink a lot of water whereas fresh water fish don't drink water at all.ReplyDelete
Were he still around and reading your blog the inimitable Cole might have added a verse,ReplyDelete
"Birds do it.
Bees do it.
Even little snow-impacted trees do it.
Lets do it
Lets sproing (sic) back up."
I have heard that Italian immigrants would intentionally bury their younger fig trees for the winter months when located in these northern climes. I haven't witnessed it, though.ReplyDelete
That is very true. My parents are/were Italian immigrants. We had such a tree in the near western suburbs and my dad had that job every fall and it worked. Eventually though the tree got too big and the squirrels were eating more of the figs off of it then we could get. So he left it out one year, it froze and then was chopped down in spring. This was in the 1960's.ReplyDelete
I'll never forget the cherry tree we had in the yard when I was a boy. It was a race to get the cherries in before the birds ate them, so my mother could bake the best cherry cobbler in the world. I practically lived in that tree in the spring, scaring the birds away, because I wanted my cobbler!ReplyDelete
A pretty sweet reminiscence from a bitter scribe. ; )Delete