Memoir of a Rural Sisyphus-Redux
For a few years, I kept a diary of my inauguration into the Denman Community. This column, recently renamed Memoir of a Rural Sisyphus-Redux, will
extract several of my observations from a dozen or so years ago and share them. Hopefully, they will have some modern times currency.
July 22, 2009
As I stroll up the driveway and beyond, up to Lacon to retrieve the garbage can, a small fawn bounces just ahead. It seems about a foot high and cannot be more than a week old, though I know little about deer beyond their cuteness. The mother hesitates to my right as Bambi bounces unawares up the hill. I pause and foolishly wave the mother in front of me so that she can herd in her errant baby. She seems confused by my hand signals.
Later, I go to fetch my bike to ride to the library for a strenuous turn there. A buck is cooling in the lean-to we have that runs the length of our workshop. He and I have met before. He scampers up the dirt slope and waits. I advise him that I am an innocuous human. He ponders. He stares, but he does not bolt.
I return three hours later. The buck has again sought the shady respite of the lean-to. This time, he remains at his rest station. I put my bike away in the small recycling shed, glance at the resting deer, and walk along the end of the shop. A doe is sleeping in the boat tent across the way. The slight wind forms a bit of a wind tunnel, and she is cooling in the afternoon heat. She is not as trusting as the buck. She arises, shakes off the feeling of rest, and walks up into the scrub.
I continue my walk down the driveway to the house.
I have no doubt that these scenes will repeat daily, weekly, monthly, really quite often.
Unlike a total eclipse of the sun which is happening tonight.
I’ll be sleeping.