I took a slow walk around my one-block radius, being surprised by flocks of robins and cedar waxwings. I love cedar waxwings for their dramatic eye make-up, and their flash mob behavior. I love the way a flock will land in the bare branches of a winter tree and seem to be only yellow leaves hanging on late into winter. I adore the way the ends of their tail feathers look like they were dipped in bright yellow Testors model enamel paint. A cedar waxwing could inspire some excellent Olympic figure skating costumes.
The robins and cedar waxwings were taking turns drinking at a spot where fallen branches make a nice perch just above the water. I was surprised they were so close to a trio of pre-adolescent boys chopping and pounding. I tried to look like I wasn't spying on the guys. They are building a hide-out with scavenged rotten fence sections amidst exposed tree roots at the creek. They were just around a bend from the spot where my sons used to ride a rope swing across the creek a dozen years ago. This gives me hope for the future!
Got home at dusk to find this anole lizard on my front stoop. He seemed to have just molted, and was dark-colored, showing stress. I took several bad photos with my camera settings all wrong before he got perturbed enough to crawl sluggishly back to the shadows below the siding. It's only fifty-five degrees, breezy, and gloomy. Doesn't seem like anole weather at all, and not a good day to shed one's skin.
Last night the moon was a Cheshire cat smile when I took the recycling to the cart in between the men's figure skating performances. The moon reminded me of Harold and the Purple Crayon. Harold's line follows wherever he goes, and the moon goes along. Harold likes nine kinds of pie. Some of my students are learning about the silent E that makes vowels say their names .... pie ... nine ... line ... skate ... shave ... smile.
How strange for a lizard to be roused out of winter slumber just to shed its skin. Talk about wanting to hit the snooze button on the alarm clock! I feel your pain, Mr. Anole. I was awakened by the recurring snooze alarm knowing I'd been invited to a sensuous paisley party, but had forgotten to shave my legs.
© 2010 Nancy L. Ruder