The house didn’t need any major renovations, but we painted, cleaned, and replaced the roof. As usual, I let Tom take the reins for all the time-consuming, labor-intensive stuff while I focused on one small noncritical task: I wanted to transplant our lilies before we put the house on the market.
The lilies were sentimental to me because I initially planted them at our first apartment after Tom and I got married, then moved them to our house on Grace St. I’m also sentimental about them because, well, here’s something you should know about me: I’m sentimental about flowers.
I transplanted the lilies to a bed that already had lilies, and then watched in horror as deer completely devoured them.
This spring, even though I’d heard mixed reviews about the efficacy, I sprayed the lilies with deer repellant. Amazingly, the deer ate my hostas and saplings, and voles STOLE all six of my dahlias. But the lilies bloomed.
I’ve heard that deer love lilies; that the flowers are like candy to them. My neighbor told me he’s had a bed of lilies for 10 years and, because of the deer, he still has no idea what color they are.
Against all odds, I now know that my lily bed is pink, yellow, and orange.
I spraedy them with this repellant, which must make deer respond to lilies the way my children respond to the quite reasonable meals I prepare every day that they thank me for by throwing their bodies on the floor and staging hunger strikes. Again.
I’m obligated to mention that this smells so bad your neighbors might call the authorities to report some sort of sewage incident in the area.
It smells. But it works.
This lily bloomed in a bed across the yard; I didn’t know about it and never sprayed it and yet it’s on its third bloom.
So maybe it was the repellant, or maybe God knows I’ve had a tough spring (in terms of dexterity, that is) and I would appreciate a few lilies.
See, I told you — I’m sentimental about flowers.