Do you have a deed?

I seem to spend an awful lot of time mowing my lawn. I have a push mower and it mulches as it goes, which means that I have to stop a lot and let the mower spit the grass back on the ground. With our "Inconvenient Truth" weather (spells of humidity punctuated with pyrotechnical thunderstorms that don't seem to break the relentless heat), I try to get out and mow in the early evening. Now that we have passed the summer solstice, it seems to be getting darker a lot earlier (although I know that this can't be true) and so I often am out at sunset, lifting my eyes to the pink clouds as the light fades, peering down at the grass to see where the clover raises its white and purple flowers. A lot of time is spent looking out for the croquet mallets and wrist guards that the kids have tossed carelessly on the grass before dashing inside to take get ready for bed, their laughter and arguments lingering in the still air, a memory and a promise. It is at that hour that the deer come to visit. It may be innacurate to say that they come to visit. I've got a strange feeling that they think they are the normal inhabitants, and wonder why I keep coming out to bother them. Often they stay where they are, munching on apples, perking up their big ears when I talk to them, but showing little sign that they are worried. Even the shaky-legged fawns, still remaining close to their elders, look at me as though I am a pesky tenant. As long as they don't get into my vegetable garden (built by a good friend to withstand such wily predators), we are very good neighbors. My intent is to create a perennial border in my new garden that will be relatively hostile to deer, but hopefully they don't know that. I do have some floppy-eared cottontailed snackers that have apparently managed to get under Farmer McGregor's fence and feast on my peas...but perhaps share and share alike is the price for living cheek by jowl with our four-legged lodgers.