August 8, 2004 ~ A Thrill Ride and a Skink
The last few days have felt like early autumn. I know that it is too early, that the heat will surely return, but while these days are here, I am soaking them up. Low temperatures, low humidity, breezy sunny days with those incredibly blue crisp skies. Downright cold at night. If only we'd planned a camping trip! I would have loved a campfire, cuddling in a tent, hikes in this fresh-feeling air.
I have had all of the windows open, airing the house out. I did some heavy cleaning on Friday, and Morgan did more while I worked the Co-Op shift. Then it was time for fun. Time to soak up some of the beautiful weather. We took the mountain bike out to the college, finally tried it out for the first time after checking it over for any problems, buying a helmet.
Oh! How long it had been since I'd been on a bike. And I'd never been mountain biking before. Morgan and I took turns riding all over Jones Mountain. Uphill is hard, but downhill is such a thrill! Now we need to find a second bike.
Dinner at Sloan's house, fresh garden vegetables, then watching a movie on his porch with the fireflies. And today we see the wolves. I'm soaking it all up, living in the moment, enjoying life, feeling thankful.
Earlier this week, I was cleaning water buckets for the wolves. I stuck the hose with the ice-cold spring water through the fence, started the flow. When the bucket was half full, I glanced down to see a flash of blue. When it floated by again, I noticed bright yellow and orange as well. "Huh. Wonder what that is." I fished it out.
A skink! A tiny, tiny hatchling skink, less than three inches long. A five-lined skink!
A very stiff, very cold, dead looking skink. Crap. Then I realized. Cold spring water. Cold-blooded reptile. Ah.
I held him in my hand and walked up to the upper pasture, where the light of the setting sun was still touching the field (grabbing my camera along the way. I opened my hand and held in my warm palm the bright little beastie in the warm sun.
He laid there, eyes closed, little toes limp against my hand.
Finally, his eyes opened:
Before I knew it, he was skittering along my hand, alive, active, clinging, and looking entirely too cute.
Since he was getting very lively (and since he was trying his hardest to crawl into my shirt, a place I did not particularly wish to have a skink), I returned him to the brush next to the creek, and he skittered along the bank, between leaves.