Misty mornings in the Northwest create a
feeling of being in a soft white cocoon, but the
sun broke the spell early that June morning. As
Emily strolled out into the back yard her gaze fell
on white blossomed blackberry bushes growing
wild along Johnson creek. We'll have lots of
berries for jam this year, she thought.
As usual this time of year the pheasants'
loud piercing cry had wakened her at dawn. Several
of the multi-colored birds were still strutting
around, sometimes dropping down to hide in the
long grass when they heard a sudden loud noise.
Sipping her coffee Emily turned her
attention to the rose garden. There were
thirty-two bushes planted and carefully tended
by her husband, Elwood. Expecting to see a riot
of color, from Pristines's white, Oregold's
bright yellow and the glowing coral of
Tropicana, to Mr. Lincoln's and Chrysler
Imperials's deep reds.....Emily stumbled,
almost dropping her cup.
"Elwood!" she shouted. "The roses - they're
gone!"
Elwood poked his head out the door. "Whaat!"
Harry, from next door, dropped his rake and
stepped over the low rock wall separating the
yards. "What's going on? What's the problem?"
Examining the bushes Elwood sounded puzzled.
"Someone or something took all the roses. Why on
earth would they just take the blossoms and not
the stems or leaves?"
Harry started laughing. "The deer ate your
roses. Remember the other day when my wife said
she saw three deer down by the creek? They love
rose-hips, but not the stems or leaves. They just
nip off the buds and blossoms. Try sprinkling red
pepper on the bushes. I hear it really works".
Since there were only a few buds left, Elwood
waited a week then put a lot of red pepper all
over. Might as well get 'em good.
The next morning Emily, up early because the
pheasants were up early, stepped out onto the deck
above the garden. She heard a violent sneeze.
Amid the rose bushes stood a doe and her fawn.
The doe, her front legs apart to support herself,
shook her head and sneezed again. The fawn, nose
quivering and pointing up, let go with a mighty
sneeze that blew the spots right off its soft
fur. The doe and fawn took off leaping toward the
wooded area west of the open field.
Transfixed, Emily watched them disappear
into the woods. "Did I see what I thought I
saw?"
She hurried down the stairs. When she
reached the cement planters encasing the rose
bushes, she saw what looked like Fawn spots.
"No -- can't be -- impossible."
Since that day, many have admired the roses
and someone always asks, "Why would you paint
what looks like Fawn spots on the planters?"
And Emily always answers, "To keep the deer
out of the roses, of course."
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