The Elk Ate My Ivy

March 25, 2010

It was a full moon…so much moon light that night looked like day.

We were watching some horror(ish)  thing on t.v. , so my skin was crawling a bit anyway. Out of the corner of my eye, just beyond the window, I saw movement. Holy Creepers! First reaction to fear?…punch the husband. He hadn’t noticed, but agreed to take a look.

There were at least 100! The size of horses on steroids. They moved out from  the shadows of the pine forest towards the house; like The Bloods  moving in on The Crips.  Step by step, without a sound, they surrounded the house. LITERALLY.

We turned off all the lights to get a better view…eventually daring to open a window so we could  listen to the power of the masses destroying our yard, garden, hedges of ivy…the occasional slurp from the pond. Massive beasts daring to dine on the hours and  hours of our gardening labor.

IT WAS MORE THAN WORTH IT…I can’t begin to tell you the power that these animals have. They stayed for several hours, munching their way through acres of new spring growth. This morning, it looks like a thousand tiny bombs went off in the yard. Not a green sprig in sight.  The hub and I decided that it was like a free pruning service and that everything will probably come back bigger and stronger…thanks in addition to all that free fertilizer they left behind.

They came, they ate, they pooped!…Kind of like a family Thanksgiving.

The moral of the story? Sometimes the things we cultivate serve a  completely different purpose than what we intended. Let go and look for the gift.

4 Responses to “The Elk Ate My Ivy”

  1. sandy Says:

    OMG, how lovely! I wish I could have been there to feel the majesty and mystery of it all. And what a lovely reminder of the beauty of letting go. My Dad always planted a huge garden. When I asked him why he explained 1/3 of the yield would be eaten by the wild life and another 1/3 would be shared with family and friends. He worked so many hours in the hot sun to tend his garden and he always enjoyed seeing the rabbits, deer and sundry critters take their part.

  2. kristine Says:

    I wish you could have been here also. It happened 3 nights in a row. When we opened the windows, sat in the dark and listened, we could hear them breath.
    What a beautiful picture you painted of your dad. Generosity and compassion.

  3. Debbie Darrin Says:

    Seeing the gift in the moment is not always our first instinct. Thank you for this beautiful reminder.

  4. Jeffrey Richard Says:

    Now the goal should be to breath deeply and exhale; all the while transfering this enlightenment to the deer that ate your roses last year!!!

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