Amateur Hour

Sometimes, life just sneaks up on you. You’re out in your yard, with your plant identification app, trying to get a decent shot of a weed or plant that wasn’t around, last year, and is twelve feet tall. (Canadian Wild Lettuce, if you’re curious. I guess it came down, for the winter, and decided to stay.)

Sometimes you glance down to make sure you and your Crocs aren’t planted on top of a fire ant mound, before you take your photo. When you do glance down, sometimes, you see this:

I call him “Longfellow”, for obvious reasons. I reckon he’s a good five feet in length. Isn’t he, as Steve Irwin might have said, “a beauty”? I’m told black racers will either skedaddle, full tilt, or lie stock still, hoping not to be spotted. Longfellow never moved a muscle. I believe he saw me, first.

Looks almost like he’s posing, doesn’t it? I don’t lead a wild life, but my life has become full of wildlife.