Attention: Blogger friends

I need your help.

I have finished a book about my daughter’s life with epilepsy.

We have a blog “Seizure Mama and Rose.”

I am releasing stories from the book onto the blog to find our audience.

Could you PLEASE share the link with anyone you know

whose life has been affected by EPILEPSY.

I need to hear from them.

This is my mission, not my hobby.

https://seizuremama.wordpress.com

I have spent many mornings at my desk in my pajamas

phishing and dropping the link,

wishing I had some folks to help me.

Then I thought of all you guys. My blogger friends! Who better to find folks?

I know that should have been obvious, kind of like throwing the ball at the pins.

FLOW is slow!

Thanks for helping us,

FLOWER

There is nothing like a good snow to let you know

what goes on in your yard while you are not looking.

The tracks tell the tales of who did what, where.

This last snow confirmed what we all ready suspected.

The deer are desperate for food.

They devoured all those rogue Kwanso daylilies on the bank during the snow.

Now they are eating the iris

and the azaleas

and Mondo grass

and even the Holly ferns.

Feed them Flower, you may think.  Save those desperate deer.

What am I going to do?

Nothing.  I have done too much all ready.

I have filled my yard with juicy vegetation

which keeps the females fat and fertile.

A female feasts.  A female fattens.  The doe goes into estrus.

Next she is pregnant and eating for two or three.

Then she is a hungry nursing mother.

Soon the fawns need my flowers, too.

Now, we have a hungry herd.

Feed them?  So the cycle can repeat again?  So the herd can get even bigger?

To slow down this cycle, there must be limited food.

I have made this artificial environment.

I am not Mother Nature. I have upset the balance.

So I must let them destroy my gardens,

until they eat it down and go away or stop reproducing.

FLOW

Just as I am basking in the Schlumbergeras’ glory,

something starts snacking on my Mona Lavendar.

At first I thought Mona was just losing leaves,

but where did they go?

Then I saw the tell tale (and tail) signs. (Pun intended.)

Poop from a caterpillar!

Here I am thinking everything is blooming and growing,

while Mona is being devoured right under my nose.

A gardener must never rest.

Even in winter, at night time, inside.

Stay vigilant folks.

While you are waiting for Santa, you may be visited by a Grinch-green, eating machine.

FLOW