A day with Sabra's deer n' daisies.
Now you see him, now you don't. This little guy (in the ferns!) was not worried. He blinked at us like a cat, and resumed grazing her more delectable cultivars. Then he had a nap.
I spent the morning knee-deep in midsummer prunings, interrupted ever so often by his wild bounding-about; I suppose, when I inadvertantly cornered him. I thiiink he was making a game of it, because he didn't bound away, he just bounded about.
So, yet another reason to love shasta daisies: deer don't eat them.
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