Lunches and Wildlife (sort of) Sightings

My parents are in the midst of a more-than-a-month-long trip to New Jersey and other northern points. Last week I met up with them for a couple of lunches. First, a lunch at a pizzeria owned by a friend of theirs, then a bigger lunch with some of our old friends. It’s a nice time catching up with everyone.

Dad happens to be the only man in our lunch group. After a trip to the men’s room he’s excited to share with us that it’s decorated with vintage pin-up girl illustrations. When the women make use of the facilities, we find only botanical prints. So clearly there’s some sort of double standard in place.

Three people smiling for the camera in a restaurant. — That’s me with Mom and Dad at our weekend lunch.

On a walk over the weekend Ron and I spot a big herd of deer eyeing us. We watch the deer as they watch us until something spooks them and they take off at a run. Then up ahead we spot something deer-colored at the side of the road and our hearts sink. Is it a dead deer? The victim of a car strike? It wouldn’t be the first time. We steel our hearts for the carnage, but as we approach, Ron observes that it kind of looks like a loaf of bread. Why would there be a loaf of bread at the side of the road? Who knows, but we do see all manner of inexplicable roadside things. Then we get closer and see it is neither a deer nor a loaf of bread, but a brown paper Burger King bag that some litterbug has tossed out their car window. The carelessness is almost as upsetting as a dead deer and almost as inexplicable as a random loaf of bread.

From the deck we watch the hay baler at a nearby farm make its way across the field. Next door we watch grass grow. Kind of. A little over a week ago (Two weeks ago? I don’t know. I’ve lost track.) grass seed was put down in various bare spots in Ron’s parents’ future yard. Since then we haven’t had a single drop of rain. So, each morning I go back and forth between the spigot and the bare spots hauling a watering can. Let me tell you, you really don’t appreciate how big a yard is until you’re making eleventy-billion trips through it to the spigot and back.

Why is the grass seed sprouting in some spots, but not others? Is it the afternoon sun baking the dirt too much? Is not getting enough sun? I have no idea. Ron says the random grass growth next door calls to mind a Chia Pet.

The other morning when I am over there I see evidence that our local bear family has been visiting the yard. Evidence, in this case, being what naturalists would call scat, which is just a nice way of saying poop. There’s an apple tree near the back of the yard, and this time of year it’s popular with the deer. It looks like the bears have discovered it as well.

On Labor Day night we decide to fire up our fire pit for the first time this season. As we hang out by the fire enjoying our dessert, we hear something rustling around not far away in the pitch dark yard. Deer? Bears? The neighbor’s cat? Who can say?

When we attempt to take photos of each other a spectral green light appears behind us. So perhaps it’s a friendly ghost joining us by the fire.

Woman sitting in the dark in front of a gas firepit with a green glowing thing just over her left shoulder. — Me and the green “ghost” sitting by the fire.

Or maybe this is just a case of my phone being too smart for its own good. Over on his blog Whatever, John Scalzi repots on his phone camera helpfulling making stop signs round. Elsewhere on the internet I’ve seen a screenshot of Google’s AI helpfully explaining why 2010 was 14 years ago and not 15 with a long and involved theorem which basically boils down to “because I said so.” So folks, I don’t know, but I don’t think the machines are going to save us.

My advice? Go outside and touch some grass, speaking of which, right now it’s time for me to head over and water some.

— Alissa