Next Level Rock Collecting

I’ve taken my rock collecting to the next level.

After shopping at a local box store, a sparkly rock among the washed stones in a parking lot island beneath a streetlight caught my eye. Next thing you know, I’m full-on mining for precious goodies right there in the parking lot without a permit.

I mean, I filled my hands with glittery specimens.

The rocks appear to be infused with mica. If tipped at certain angles against the light, these stones positively flash.

Thing is, good rocks are where you find them.

Glittery Parking Lot Rock

—Mitchell Hegman

Deer Proof

Over the years, I have tried every deer-proofing trick known from here to the coldest corner of Mars: smelly oils, soap, hanging widgets that make noise or motion. Eventually, I gave up and promoted only plants they found unpalatable.

That’s a short list, by the way.

In my yard, the following plants proved unpalatable to deer: Russian sage, mint, Dame’s rocket, coneflowers (Mexican hats), salvia, and blue flax.

Well, the list I just shared is entirely too short to comply with the prodigious plant sensibilities of an island girl from the Philippines. And you might be surprised by how impressive some of our high-north Rocky Mountain entrants compare in the competitive world of flowering plants.

Desiree wanted more. A purple this. A yellow that. A lovely-scented whatchacallit.

You know, deer stuff.

The only sure way to keep deer from dining on your (Desiree’s) pretty flowers or trees is with a tall fence. Yesterday, Desiree and I completed fencing in a small section of yard so she can chase her floral dreams within.

Me Captured Inside the Fence

—Mitchell Hegman

Drunk Deer

Somewhere in France, there exists a woodland happy hour. French police recently warned drivers to watch for drunken deer wandering into roadways after eating fermented fruit and decaying plants. Police described the animals as displaying “totally unpredictable behavior,” which is apparently the upscale French equivalent of saying, “The deer are absolutely hammered.”

A video accompanying the warning (which I have shared here) shows one deer twirling and frolicking like it had just rediscovered disco music. Authorities cautioned motorists to watch for erratic crossings, strange trajectories, and disorderly escape attempts.

I can’t entirely fault the deer. Winters are long, and living is hard in the wild. If I were living in the woods and discovered that rotten apples could briefly transform existence into a warm, spinning lantern festival, I too might give them a whirl.

Of course, here in Montana, our mule deer can handle their liquor. They are not apt to spin themselves into oblivion. They are more likely to get surly and show you the business end of their antlers.

—Mitchell Hegman

Video Link: https://www.youtube.com/shorts/fofBnwT3p1A

My Box of Favorite Things

At the age of nine, I had an oak box in which I kept my favorite things. I would sit cross-legged before the box and pull out my treasures to admire them: an antique purple bottle, a cut geode, my collection of knapped arrowheads, a parchment replica of the Declaration of Independence, square nails, a Chinese coin with a square hole in it, a brass bell, a big goose feather, and a silver dollar.

After appropriately admiring each item, I would carefully replace them and stow the box until I felt the need to see everything again.

Today, my favorite things are no longer confined to a box, and they are these: an antique purple bottle, the photograph of my wife on my smartphone home screen, the Elkhorn Mountains as seen from my bay window, my entire rock collection, and time spent at our cabin.

I see these things with my eyes open or closed.

Purple Bottle

—Mitchell Hegman

The Laws of Shopping

• There is no such thing as too much parmesan cheese.
• If you walk down the potato chip aisle, you will be compelled to buy a bag of chips.
• Remembering to purchase the salad dressing will force an error elsewhere on the list.
• Whatever you bought last week is on sale this week.
• Some of the produce bags are purposely sealed shut on both ends.
• The shortest checkout line generally harbors someone with an item requiring a price check.
• The one item you entered the store specifically to buy will be the one item you forget.
• The cart with the squeaky wheel will always choose you.

—Mitchell Hegman

Hands On

I watched an Amish man, by way of explaining his skill at carpentry, say, “We Amish are hands-on from an early age.”

For whatever reason, when I heard the phrase “hands-on,” my brain instantly leapt to Jeffrey Epstein.

That’s how deeply one wicked man can saturate our everyday lives.

—Mitchell Hegman

The Bleak Cup

Soak the hoya, trim the lemon, and pull the shades down to spare the tender goldfish plant. There will be no celebrating, for we’ve lost the mystery plant.

Five days ago, I shared the story of the mystery plant start I found in a bucket of soil in a dark corner of my garage. Hoping I might nurse it along in a friendly cup of soil, at least long enough to see if it was friend or foe, I prepped a cup and planted the start inside.

Sadly, the plant withered and perished, leaving behind a bleak cup of nothing but moist dirt.

So lightly water the orchids. Place the lime in direct light. Give the cat palm an extra sip tonight.

The Mystery Plant

The Bleak Cup

—Mitchell Hegman