I am emerging from the darkness of the Writing Cave but only for a moment. My youngest son, 16, saw a lovely Rosy Boa slither past the sliding glass doors an hour ago – they are docile and not known to bite or try to swallow you whole – and after we marveled at its sleek movements, he went out to catch it, admire it, take a few pics, and let it go.
The snake was of course eager to be anonymous and made haste for the iceplant and juniper bushes. Half an hour later, disgruntled son was snakeless and disappointed. Why can’t I catch him? he grumbled.
Because he does not want to be caught, I said.
After a couple swigs of Gatorade, son went back out to defy Nature. He came back in ten minutes later with a fetching lizard with lovely cerulean blue markings on its belly. Not exactly a snake, but we agreed he was pretty and I told him I would take his picture with it. So outside we go into the natural light and as I am taking JPGS, the lovely lizard, fed up with the photo shoot, disengages his tail to hasten his escape.
I realize this is how lizards have survived lo these many millenia. But the tail – without the lizards’ body, mind you – landed on the patio and began to squirm like a fish on a hook.
Ick. Ick. Icky.
Son thought is was great. I ran into the house making gross noises. He thought that was great, too.
Ugh. Nature wins.
Back to the Cave . . .