Life is all memories, except for the moment you stand in it.
I hate crittery things.
Truth is, I have a love-hate thing with lizards, and unfortunately Arizona is filled with them. Most would argue the benefits of having them around, and I just cringe at the thought of them. I know they eat insects, spiders, and very few pose a threat, but quite honestly, they are in my space and startle me at the most inopportune times.
I am not necessarily afraid of them. And at risk of sounding like a hypocrite, I enjoy seeing them in their native habitat, which, in this case, is my front yard. They learn my routine and habits, and I learn theirs. The adult lizards know this; the babies learn.
Everything about living in unison changed in late Spring with the arrival of the baby lizard. It took a bit for both of us. Clearly, it hadn’t received the memo from it’s parents regarding the dangerous human in the house, and evidently I wasn’t making the necessary impression. Every time I went out, it seemed to wait for me, run at me, sometimes inches from my toes, and once between my feet.
That particular day it was 114 degrees. And while it isn’t uncommon to see birds, desert squirrels, or rabbits frequent the irrigation, the lizards were doing what lizards do best. They were basking in the heat.
The baby lizard ran at me, again, unaffected by the dose of spray from the hose I carried. I thought it would learn to scurry under the fire pit with the splash of spray as the larger lizards did. Instead it jumped, danced and hopped around like a kid in a mud puddle.
I fell in love.
And I almost missed it.
Warm and fuzzy Wind Kisses, Donna
There is something special about the beauty in the unclear, the ambguity, the in-between that you can’t totally recognize. A. Michele