Phone Books—Joining the Dinosaurs?

Remember the old black telephones with the operator at the end of the line: “Num-ber, pah-leez”?

“1661-R-3.”

See, I remember our family’s 1940s telephone number. Mother and Dad had me memorize it just in case I got lost or kidnapped, though that was pretty much impossible in Alloway, the small New Jersey town where he grew up. Alloway had one blinking traffic signal at the center of town (red for vehicles on Greenwich and yellow for those on Main) and a host of moms and dads who “kept an eye out” for everyone’s kids, not just their own.

When the phone rang three times, I sometimes was asked to answer—in the proper way of course: “Nixon residence.”

Most operators were fired a couple of generations ago—replaced by rotary and then push-button phones. And now another part of telephone history since 1878 is about to disappear—the telephone directory—the white pages with residential telephone numbers.

Our current phone company, Verizon, has asked state authorities permission to stop delivering the white pages.

Why?

Most people now look up numbers online—or have them stored already on their home phones or cellphones. A survey showed that only 11% of households in 2008 used the white pages to find telephone numbers.

What then are all those thick directories used for?

Kindling wood—booster seats—pressing four-leaf clovers—but mostly for filling recycling bins.

Will I miss the local phone book?

One of the 7 a.m. exercise group at our community center recently was hospitalized. I wanted to call his wife and inquire about his recovery and to send a get-well card. I went to a cupboard in the garage, found the local phone directory, but found no entry for our friend. Then I went online and within a few seconds found his phone number and home address including zip code.

I probably won’t miss receiving the local directory. And the blue recycling bin at Meadow Glenn will be full at times—with the annual two-volume edition of the to-be-continued Yellow Pages.

Deer Country 1: Gardening in Deer Country

Three deer (Photo 1) checking for browseables in one of our flower beds just 15 feet from our front door on an October afternoon are unremarkable—because more often there are 5 or 7, sometimes 15 or 25, in our flower beds or on the lawn just beyond.


And just because we have a plague of deer doesn’t mean we cannot grow flowers, as Photo 2, of the same bed in June, illustrates. The blooming perennials are unprotected by fencing, rotten-egg or hot-pepper spray, bars of soap, wads of hair, water jets, landmines, or any other “thing” that might keep deer away.

What’s my secret?

The answer is that it took me nearly 10 years to figure out what the problem was and how I wanted to solve it.

When we moved to Meadow Glenn in 1997, I was excited about plans for beautifying our small piece of Piedmont Maryland, Earth 21029. Bed 1: Sunflowers. Bed 2: Pansies. Bed 3: Hostas. Framing the house: A row of Nellie Stevens hollies.

Over the first few months I learned that the deer we seldom saw considered our plantings a welcome addition to their salad bar. Sunflowers and Nellie Stevens hollies: Every leaf eaten. Pansies: Eaten to the ground. Hostas: Left with leafless stems.

Frustrating, yes—destroying dreams of endless flower gardens stretching to the horizon. Expensive, yes—if I total the cost of all the flowers, shrubs, and trees we bought that were eaten by deer. To compound the problem, the deer population over the years increased from “2 or 3, but seldom seen” to “20 to 25, and almost always present.”

But I didn’t surrender. I wondered how other gardeners solve the problem. I read books, magazine and newspaper articles, and Internet postings. I attended seminars. I read official county and state reports. I talked with neighbors and surveyed local Master Gardeners. I hung bars of soap, scattered hair clippings, sprayed foul-smelling liquids, and slathered on grease-like gunk.

Some things worked a bit, and some didn’t work at all for me. After more than 10 years of trial and error, I reached the point where I usually plant flowers, shrubs, and trees that the deer don’t prefer to eat.

In the Ancient Gardener Blog I’m going to share what I’ve learned—with a series of postings labeled “Deer Country.” My hope: What works for me will work for you.

Please check back from time to time and look for postings labeled “Deer Country” or “Subscribe” so you will know when I post. My goal is to add a new “Deer Country” posting once a week. If you know gardeners who have deer challenges, encourage them to visit this blog.

And please post your Comment about how you cope with deer that visit your garden. If you learn something from me, it’s only fair that I learn something from you.