This morning, as I dragged my sleep-addled self and my therapeutic coffee to the table, planning to ease into the day by doing the midweek, mildly challenging NYT crossword, I happened to glance out the window. There was a fawn, still with its spots, cavorting about. The mom was nearby, keeping an eye on things, but she didn’t seem to see me as a threat. I got to watch the show for a full fifteen minutes. They sniffed every plant, nibbled on a few, then chowed down on dandelion greens and dogwood. The little un would every so often spin about or leap into the air with sheer exuberance. They can have the dogwoods.