Captured by Pirates•

Hubris, I haz it.

My gardens were progressing happily along; lots of sunshine, plenty of butterflies, and only a few weeds. I had sprayed my stinky “Stay the Heck Out of My Garden Spray” on its monthly basis, all was beautiful and blooming.

No need to go to the trouble of stringing all the hose, checking the batteries and water shooting range on the Scare Crow sprinklers and setting them out each evening, I thought. I have seen nary a hide nor hair—nor tell-tell dropping—of an elk since spring. Maybe they’ve decided to go away, leave me alone, or eat only scotch broom and dandelions! (Wouldn’t that be nice!) And it’s just as well, really. With all this heat I’ve been preoccupied with using my hoses for hydration, not perimeter defense. La-la-la, look-- more butterflies!

Alas. Sue’s giddy Garden of Eden was riddled with four-footed serpents. (Thinking of elk as the spawn of Satan just feels right, doesn’t it?) First they attacked the straw bale garden. Rats, but no big worries. After all, I hadn’t sprayed the stinky spray on the vegetables—I wouldn’t want to eat them then, either. So I broke out my first Scare Crow, dug out my batteries and continued on in my pretty rainbow-colored haze of denial.

.

Evil on the hoof

Imagine my surprise the next morning to see the stems of flowers and uprooted plants of multiple beds decorating my lawn. What?! How? But!!!

So I’ve spent the last couple of days dragging garden hoses, figuring out angle that insure the best coverage, plotting the terrain of my counter attack, using every weapon in my arsenal--------- “magic” words included.

When it comes to battling nature, I have discovered—over and over—that I need to use every tool, trick and technique available.

Stupid elk.

*title my homage to The Princess Bride, The Best Movie EVER in the history of movies.