REALITY?: Are We What We Eat?

At the next door neighbor lady’s last night for dinner, we were served roast beef and spinach with brie cheese in green wraps, cream of zucchini soup, red wine and fresh strawberries with cream. Heavy with pleasure fulfilled I fell asleep upon my couch, shortly wakened by a smiling whisper of, “there’s a buck at the feeder…” I stumble, follow to the kitchen window, amazed at how close, how beautiful and hungry the creature laps with tongue the seeds meant for my cardinals, titmice, chickadees and finch. Bountiful summer, it would seem, does not provide the varied menu that I can offer him.

Tonight we eat Chinese. Bites of sirloin and fresh ginger root amid the jeweled red pepper strips, emerald broccoli, cauliflower cloud clumps and slivered portobellos. Brown rice, of course, Americanized and diabeticized Szechwan beds. We wait and watch, a doe appears and delicately nibbles at the feeder just as dusk arrives, looks back at us with unconcern behind our walls of human habitat and slowly walks around and to the front. She goes across the street, perhaps for an aperitif that I’ve neglected in her evening meal.

Tomorrow night I shall make Mexican. Grind and chop and puree all together vine-ripened tomatoes, onions, peppers, celery, spicy spices mixed in oil and chicken broth and more. Crisp taco shells filled with beans and beef, or soft wraps to dip in sour cream, guacamole, salsa.

Why would a deer eat birdseed? Why would I stick to meat and potatoes when so much variety abounds.