Rudy | Get Me OFF Your Lawn

Author’s note. Rudy | The Unofficial Novella is comprised of notes found stuffed in a stainless steel shoe box that floated up from what used to be frozen tundra. There will be 25 posts containing random insights into the seasonal saga. This is #17. They are not in order, but will be when pigs fly.

The Elders tell tales of winters descending in mid-September and forcing ancient herds to flee blizzards that blow in at noon and disappear at sundown.

“Curses,” they whisper. “Curses brought on by inappropriate depictions of our bodies. Heads on the walls of human man caves and stuck inside bear dens. Our bodies formed by concrete and wire.”

What constitutes the violation of the sacrosanct?

Lawn deer.

Cement families. Holiday scenes of deer lit from within. Horrific. However, California needs snow pack. Perhaps the answer to the drought could be a preponderance of deer icons until 20 feet of the white stuff covers the ground, awaiting spring thaw?