Before I went to sleep last night, I determined I was not going outside today - with or without my camera. July on Pollywog Creek is hot and sticky, and if I stand still for a second, the mosquitoes hiding in the thick wet grass ruthlessly attack my feet and ankles. Not so with Louis. He's outside by dawn on Saturday mornings in the summer, and today was no exception. Before I could finish my first cup of coffee, he was tapping on the window to get my attention. "You ought to come look at the interesting fungus growing out from under the pots of gardenia cuttings by the oak tree," he beckoned. I couldn't ignore interesting fungus, could I? And because it is just the way I am, one thing led to another. By the time I returned to my mosquito-free air-conditioned study - more than an hour later - I'd stalked a pair of pilated woodpeckers, paused to delight in the mockingbird that serenades from the top of the dead eucalyptus tree, admired the blue dayflowers and tarflowers and the tickseed the grows in bunches along the fence line. I marveled at the way the dew sparkles on the grassy flowerheads in the early morning sunlight, watched lizards crawl to the tops of cypress knees and tried to sneak up on the bullfrogs by the pond.
So much for determination.
