Cripes, Suzette!

Remember, Deer, You Are Concrete And To Concrete You Shall Return

I'm afraid I have some very bad news. Remember the Painted Deer?

That little concrete deer that had been in the backyard of my family home since the 60s. After my mother's death, it was hijacked by a well-meaning but clueless neighbor and made to suffer a garish makeover, complete with glittery nose and hooves. I should have recognized that move for what it was - the opening salvo in a take-over attempt to expand her plastic flower empire into what became my backyard. No, it took painted boulders, flowerpots and urns, scalped shrubbery and a dazzling rainbow of plastic flower bouquets impaled into the soil for me to draw the line and forbid her to trespass onto the property again.

Well, the Painted Deer, one must admit, is horrifying and compelling and the same time. Not long after it made its refurbished appearance in the yard, it moved to Shickshinny to live forever in the yard of my best friend. Tina is my true seestor, not related by blood but by spirit, shared experiences of a lifetime and now a concrete deer with a crown of plastic geraniums. She installed it in a place of honor in front of the house.

You never know what life is going to bring you, do you? Fate and Mother Nature combined this week to blow down a giant oak tree and the result could not have been more heartbreaking.

  Click here for the full scope of the damage.

Ah, well. things change in a moment and you can't go back in time. I'm very glad that I could share the glory days of the Painted Deer with the internet world and that it will live forever in the search engines of Google and Technorati.

Rest in peace, little deer.

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 I just had a rare moment of insight. What if the Painted Deer was a harbinger of things to come? A predictor of my future? Look at this:

   

The dog is officially identified by his markings and coloring as  a red-headed tricolor PWC. What could be more red-headed than a crown of plastic geraniums? And both the painted deer and the dog have coloring of black, brown and white, a shiny nose, googly eyes and enormous ears.

The universe has manipulated me. It's not at all a bad outcome, but it's a slap to my human spirit to understand that what I thought was my own free will is the result of cosmic predestination.  There's no such thing as coincidence.

Return of the Deer Painter

I'm at the old house this weekend. Across the street, there's a house that is sporting a yellow plastic flowers.

Do they look familiar to you?

It appears that the Deer Painter has found a new friend. This must be the season of inspiration for her because she has also taken to embellishing what she calls her "cavalier". As you can see, it's been joined by a poinsettia topiary, a beribboned rabbit and two birds.

There must have been a sale on fake birds because she has added a few items to her backyard display, primarily mushrooms and some kissing Dutch children, and they all have birds perched on them. I wonder how she anchored that bird on the gazing ball?

At the back of her house, there is a large pink rabbit wearing red lipstick, flanked by two admiring frogs. As far as I can Tell, all the flowers in the Deer Painters yard are alive. (UPDATE: No, they are all fakes. Those are bouquets of red roses with baby's breath and resin moisture droplets on them.)

Did I mention that the Deer Painter is wealthy? She's like the Michael Jackson of ceramics - no one will tell her that she is wacky because of her money. No one except me, your hero Suzette. For which I paid with the withdrawl of free lawn care by her husband. But at least I have moral integrity. And a yard full of weeds.

The grass and flower beds at my old house are sporting a wide variety of chickweed, crabgrass and other assorted weeds that are remarkable for their vigor. Still, if you are a fan of natural beauty, you will see that they look 1000 times better than the garish plastic flowers and painted accompaniments over there. Heck, even if you are not a fan of weeds, at least they are green and alive.