Fourth Printing!

 By Maryanna Gabriel

Shout out... well, whaddya know.

My book has just gone into its fourth printing.
My publisher wrote this morning and said... "it is a great story."

High praise from a man who knows. Yabba-dabba, doodly-doo!
A big thank you to all who have supported me.

Voting For Nothing Much Happening

 By Maryanna Gabriel 


The other day I was talking to my grandson, and he referred me to a podcast entitled "Nothing Much Happens". I laughed, then listened. Happily, it put me to sleep. Very peaceful. Something about the enticing activity of ants at a picnic. Riveting, especially these days and preferential to most headlines.

It occurred to me that the doe breaking into the garden might be pregnant. Judging by the state of my booby traps, she has made three more attempts, none of them successful - thank goodness.

Apple tree in recovery. 

Thankfully, I live in a relatively peaceful and unpopulated part of the world, which suits me just fine. The other day, a ferry worker, late for her shift, drove into me at a billion miles an hour making a turn and, for some mysterious reason, was looking the other way. 

The upshot of all of this was tripping on a paver, keeling over, and spraining an ankle. 

With the garden making a gradual return to its former fecund state, my car being fixed by insurance, and my ankle healing, I am seriously in the nothing much happens camp. . 

One Red Geum

 By Maryanna Gabriel

"A dreamer is one who can only find his way by moonlight and his
 punishment is that he sees the dawn before the rest of the world."
        - Oscar Wilde

Time being of the essence, I booby-trapped the doe's last point of entry. Ted Kaczynski would have been proud. It's an arrangement of graduating obstacles. Last night I woke up to a racket and flipped on the outside lights, it being the dead of night. She'd had a tangle with the rubbish bin laid cunningly alongside the first gate, and as I peered into the dark void, I could hear the crunching of dry leaves as she bounded away. Good. I hope it scared her. Wish I could invent a balooga horn going off when the bin gets tipped. 

Returning to bed, I tossed and turned and woke up dreaming about a famous person we all know walking in and out of Hades. Great insight, now how about the reverse? This morning I was before dawn, nervously staring at the garden, then inspecting the premises. She has been so aggressive I cannot discount a new plot point of attack.

But nothing. All was well. Relief. So this takes us to day three without a  break-in. The honest to goodness truth is that there is tiny cucumber making progress, and I even picked two strawberries. Am posting a photo of the one bravely emerging red Geum. 

Supernatural Quality: Update

Maryanna Gabrie

 "Never give in—never, never, never, never."
                                                                        - W.C.

After my last blog post, AJ and I worked hard at blocking the spot where I spotted the doe's exit. She had been enjoying many garden delicacies and has recently snacked on peony and rhubarb, their leaves being a little tougher I suppose, and so more of an acquired taste. Our fix wasn't pretty, but it was better than the pitch fork arrangement I had going.

Three days have passed with no break-ins. I celebrated. In my dreams, I mentally composed the blog to you all sharing my joy. Spotted the one hopeful red Geum in my flower bed and planned to post a picture here as my cause celebre. I even lifted the remay from the vegetable beds and the apple tree yesterday. Slept like a baby. That was how confident I was. 

Not a flower in sight.
Still some green though..
Hope. 

Shock. This morning she was back.This deer is starting to take on a supernatural quality which I know sounds off the wall, but I can't help it. As in when a Navajo bad guy possesses an animal to bother someone a medicine man does not like. All I can say is this deer is not acting like a normal deer, hence the analogy. 

This morning, she had a great time munching through the beans and the remaining rosebuds then chomped into what was left of a crunchy fatsia tree. The red Geum is gone. When I made my heated appearance, she exited via a rear open gate.

Mea culpa.The thing is though, and let me be clear, she would have had to jump down six feet into a dark narrow passage with a medieval looking high stone wall to one side. Please understand there is a first gate before it. It's pretty intense she came in this way. 

So now, everything is covered again. The front gate is locked with a chain and padlock. This new entry point is blocked with wire and boards.

I dunno know.... I really don't. 

Hours Later Update:
Night has almost fallen and I was listening to my show with the kitchen door open. Good thing. I heard two loud cracks. By jove, she was kicking the very gate with her hooves, absolutely incroyable that a deer would do this. I know it was her because I saw her hightailing it from the scene of the crime as I yelled. This gate is stiff and has a chain and it held throughout her athletic administrations. To be sure, I have placed my trusty pitch fork and boards with nails as reinforcement. Feeling watchful, but better. Certainly is abnormal deer behaviour. Will be up at dawn for she will try again, but I feel the fortifications will hold. Living under siege is not pretty. Have water, rice and beans. I will never surrender. Holding fast to the remaining green pepper plant. Never say die. 
The Following Morning - Dawn:
No audible warning. Didn't hear a thing. She was in the garden this morning at first light and was skillfully removed the reemay. Get this. She came in through the two foot crawl space. Shopping for an electric fence this morning. Uncanny. And very creepy. She will ruin the wall at this rate. Rocks have tumbled everywhere. 

"We shall go on to the end... we shall defend our Island [and green pepper plants], whatever the cost may be, we shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender."
- Winston Churchill

A Regular Houdini

 By Maryanna Gabriel 


In all my years of island living, I have never experienced anything like this. The deer has been in every day since my last post. There are actually one or two plants left. Action requested, but what? Sitting like Ma Kettle with a shotgun across my knee is not exactly what is called for. Tempting thought, though. A dog? Electric fence? 

"If only you would bark," I say to Jasper, the cat. He remained silent on the subject. 

So I went about repairing the plantings as best I could and chained the gate. There that'll do it. Except she came back. More damage. Chased her out. A huge doe with no spots. Of course, she is huge. And smart. How is she getting in?

I walked the perimeter inside and out. There was an area that looked disturbed so I set about plugging the base of the fencing with a board and rocks. There that'll do it. Then relaxed. Again she returned. Again, I chased and this time she showed me her spot - a different place off my deck. Ah hah, now I have you, my pretty. Building a blockage with what little wire fencing I had, I relaxed, watered, and repaired. Replanted to try and restitute some greens before snow flies - there is always hope. 

Yesterday I was practically humming and took off the protective sheeting from the broccoli and romaine stumps so they would grow. I could always wash off the deer saliva. And relaxed. 

Well, last night I was lying in bed when I heard a clunk. Geez. Her. She jumped the blockade. Quite the feat actually, given the angles. Out I went in my nightie as she eyed what little was left of the romaine. This time she surprised me. She exited from a different spot by leaping a gated, eight-foot high rock wall and squeezing herself along a two-foot crawl space beneath the deck, maybe twenty feet. Wow. A regular Houdini. 

So I've moved more stuff to make entry as uninviting as possible. The way I figure it, the next jump could break her leg. So now I am not really relaxed at all. 

Blockaded. Waiting with baited breath...