Iguanas and
Other Sentient Life
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That iguana spit on me today. I
stood below him, next to the wall in my front-patio courtyard, watching him
soak up the sun. He turned his head, looked me in the eye, and spit. Well,
that’s a fine howdy-do.
No manners. But, maybe, like many a
youngster, he had a valid complaint: “She looked at me.”
There’s a pair of what I call teen
iguanas, middle-sized, who sun at the top of that particular section of wall.
You should see them skitter up—or
down—a vertical wall. Yet, despite Velcro feet, often I see, or hear, the
iguanas fall from the top of the bricks down to the ground. Maybe they jump.
I spend an inordinate amount of time
watching iguanas, contemplating behavior. Theirs, my friends, my own.
Julie came by this morning. She is
leaving tomorrow for her Minnesota home. We sat for an hour observing tanagers,
warblers, hummingbirds and bees in my Bottlebrush tree. Today is the first day
for the bees in such great number. They must have a nearby hive. It was a
peaceful way to say good-bye. Julie will be gone several months, back in the
fall.
Jim left last week for Missouri. I
lost my Qi Gong partner but shifted my pattern and began morning walks with
John and Carol. They’ll be here another month.
There is constant coming and going
on the Rancho. Three winters ago, Lani and Ariel were the only full-time
residents. Within a few weeks of one another, Pat and Nancie, Carol and John,
Jim, Kathy and Richard, Crin and I purchased homes. Another several months and
we were joined by Tom and JRae and Julie and Francisco. All but Lani and I have
homes elsewhere. Thus, the constant coming and going.
My first two years, I pretty much
had April to October to myself. I’m used to solitude. I lived the same pattern during
my years in Mazatlan so I was used to being alone. This year the pattern is
broken. A strange tantrum is being pitched inside me.
I love my friends. I do. I’m sad
when they leave. I am delighted that I will have my neighbors back, one or two
at a time, in April, May, and June and July. August is unknown. September I’m
gone. October and November most of my friends return for the winter.
My strange little temper tantrum
within is because I also want my solitude. Well, that’s me. I want it all.
Given a choice between cake and pie, both with ice cream, my answer is “Yes”.
So, there. Now that I’ve said it, it
all sounds rather silly. Truth is, we don’t live in one another’s pockets. We
each have our own lives, our own interests. When we get together, we do so
because we want to be together.
I like my friends and neighbors. And
they like me. When they are gone, I console myself that I have my iguanas. I’m
not sure the iguanas like me. Not one of my friends has ever spit in my eye.
Sondra
Ashton
HDN: Looking
out my back door
April 5,
2018
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