BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL BEAUTIFUL

I just had the most unexpected gorgeously bizarre lump in my throat experience....

It's Sunday morning. Mike is still asleep in the loft, nursing his inner ear infection. I love him and want him to get better, so in the interest of keeping his world quiet, I've gone out into the beautiful sunny California morning that is our back yard. I have Mike's Ipod clipped to my bikini, the volume on high the way I like it. Nobody can hear but me ... or so I thought....

I had a book, and a cup of tea. I walked down the narrow rock path to the shed we built this past spring. I entered the dapple-shaded roof overhang where my fuschia's are flourishing, and set my book on the table ... I felt a presence nearby. I looked over to our little woodsy area bordering the creek, and saw, just five feet away on our weathered picnic table, the biggest, most healthy fantastically gorgeous squirrel I've ever seen in my life.

It froze. I froze. I crept gingerly to the bench and sat carefully down, hoping against hope that this beautiful creature would not run away.

The Ipod obliged me in the most beautific way ... Johnny Cash began to sing 'Amazing Grace'.

I can't tell you how gorgeous was this experience ... This sweeping song sending its beauty into my head while I watched the lovely squirrel frozen into it's position watching me wondering if I was friend or foe wondering if it should flee or no and I sat there frozen watching him as Johnny Cash sang 'Amazing Grace'.

The squirrel is silver/grey, with white underparts. His tail is magnificent - grey with specks of black, and fluffy like you wouldn't believe.

Then the Ipod began to play the soundtrack from the movie 'Amelie'. Beautiful music ... but immediately the squirrel reared up on his hind legs! I remembered that animals hear things that humans do not. I understood that my beautiful new friend could, in fact, hear the Ipod music. And he didn't like the accordions in this Amelie soundtrack.

Standing up like that, on hind legs with his little forepaws poised against his chest, he looked for all the world like a little kangaroo.

I relaxed my breathing, trying to portray that I was not an enemy, but the squirrel wasn't having any of it.

Suddenly he bounded up the fir tree, rushed out across an overhanging branch and with his little hands, began to tap a message of warning to any other animals who knew his language. He pounded against that branch so briskly the branch shuddered. Meanwhile I sat there underneath, staring up at him, exulting in the experience of meeting him.