Sun and clouds mixed. High 79F. Winds ENE at 5 to 10 mph..

Some clouds. A stray shower or thunderstorm is possible. Low 64F. Winds NE at 5 to 10 mph.

Queen of the night blooms in late summer at Chaos.

Queen of the night blooms in late summer at Chaos.

Just when I thought I personally, more or less, knew all the critters than inhabit Chaos, I met a new neighbor last week. I don’t know if she’s been here all along or just moved in, but I’d never before made her acquaintance.

We still haven’t been properly introduced. I only caught a quick glimpse of her fat furry body and long tail. There was no polite pause to exchange names as she disappeared under my studio step after pillaging and scattering kernels from a bundle of Indian corn I had stashed in a basket on the studio porch.

I didn’t mind the wreckage of the corn. It was years old, bought for fall decorations and in need of replacement anyway, though so far unbothered by squirrels preferring the largess of black walnuts and acorns. I had been mildly perplexed when I first noticed the overturned basket and one ear partly shucked, but simply laid it to a curious squirrel who may have uprighted the basket and stuffed the corn back, intending to take care of it later.

A day or so later, a friend visiting the studio saw her, busily stuffing her cheeks before she took her purloined loot back to her stash under the studio, maybe sharing the groundhog den under there. Bigger than a mouse, she said, not a chipmunk nor a rat, and fat, furry and round.

We wracked our brains trying to identify my mysterious new resident until my friend recalled a similar animal she had recently evicted from her pantry, identified as a North American deer mouse. After some online research, it appears she was right.

I’ve seen my new squatter a few times since, but she’s too quick to capture in a photo. I didn’t check its gender, but I think of it as female since she’s stocking the larder for winter or the nest she’s preparing for a fall family. She will also have another brood in spring.

Distinguishable from a mouse by its size, and from a rat by its ears, tail and girth, a North American deer mouse (Peromyscus sp.) is an irresistibly cute little thing. About 4 to 5 inches long (excluding tail) with soft, plushy brown/gray fur; white belly and chin; furry, long tail; large black eyes; long whiskers; and big pinkish ears, she looks like a chimera of a mouse and a baby bunny — the perfect model for a stuffed toy.

She didn’t stop long enough for me to inquire after her family tree, so I don’t know which of Missouri’s four subspecies she identifies with. Often variable, interbred and indistinguishable from one another, it could be any of them.

Deer mice feast on grains (like my Indian corn), nuts, fruit pits, bugs, spiders, slugs, selected plants and birds’ eggs, and they even scavenge bodies of dead mice. They are important prey food for foxes, hawks and other raptors, even opossums, shrews and snakes.

Normally nesting in woods or brush piles, in unused tunnels and nests made by other mammals (or themselves), pastures and occasionally squirrels’ nests, deer mice sometimes look for a cozy spot in a house or building. With her being so close to my studio, I’ll have to be careful about keeping my door shut, and clean out closets and boxes in case she has found her way inside and an eviction is in order. Cuteness is no reason for me to offer a room; if she is in there, there will be plenty of time for her to find another place to live before winter.

Queen of the night got in a grand rush after I wrote about it last week; HRH must have taken my prodding to heart. I checked a couple of hours after the morning photo of her fat bud to see tips of white beginning to poke out, and by 8:30, it was half open.

By 2 a.m. (I stayed up so as not to miss anything), it was fully showing off its magical, pristine white glory. I thought I caught a sly wink and smile (though it may have been just my imagination or a bit of pollen in my eye). She may do it again just to prove she can; another branch has another small but vigorous bud.

Sadly, when I went looking for my other much-anticipated late summer beauties, native spider lilies (Hymenocallis caroliniana), I was a day late and had missed them. The blooms had already opened and faded. It was a good year, too, with four bloom stalks.

It was a lesson sharply reminded: It pays to be on my toes to see what’s going on the garden. I had not expected much with summer so dry and its leaves brown, but should have known with all the spring rains, the bulbs were well-fed and ready. Ephemeral like queen of the night, the flowers don’t last long — just a few days and gone until next year.

It hasn’t been too late for daturas; they are showing off nightly, unfurling giant white blooms in fascinating Fibonacci sequence, sweetly perfuming the night air. After an overheated summer has segued into cooler temperatures, all three brugmansias have long buds to greet September and bloom with the only surviving morning glory vine that outlived the heat.

Another reminder: Mauve-pink autumn crocus (Colchicum autumnale), also known as “naked boys,” should be up soon, and I don’t want to miss those. I’ll find one to dig up and put on my studio windowsill; there are no roots now, but the flower is already formed inside the bulb and will open like a little gift. It can be replanted after the flower fades.

Afternoons this week will be spent cleaning studio closets in search of Ms. Deer Mouse. While I’m at it, I’ll try to find out how mama squirrel gets in to nest in one closet ceiling every spring and put out the “no vacancy” sign for her, too.

Sigh. The trials of being an accidental landlady and kicking out messy tenants.

Sandy and Jim Parrill garden at Chaos, their acre of the Ozarks in Joplin. Sandy is a lifelong gardener and a Missouri master gardener. Jim is a former garden center owner and landscaper; both are past members of the Missouri Landscape and Nursery Association. Email them at sandraparrilll@sbcglobal.net and follow their Facebook page, A Parrillel Universe of Wonderful Things.

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