The fence that was built to keep out the deer apparently provided a safe delivery spot for one doe. Yesterday, this little guy appeared in our garden. We knew enough to leave him alone; his mother would be back for him soon. She must have come for him after dark because there was no sign of him in the morning.

It’s been a strange year for the garden, producing more animals (fawns, cardinals, ants) than flowers. I’m writing it off to lack of deer-proofing and unseasonably damp weather.

What it reminds me of, though, is that nothing is promised to us. April showers don’t always bring May flowers. It’s something we know, but tend to forget — until life provides the proof. Now the garden is a nursery … in more ways than one.