I met up with my dear friend Miranda Künstler for some delicious raspberry ice tea, a hearty meal, and a long walk through the neighborhood. As usual, she inspired me with discussions about art, medicine and travel.
Isn’t it marvelous how lively discussion and a good friend can buoy a mid-summer mood?
I brought her back to the house to show off my garden. I had a full pail of green beans for snacks out in the garden when I’d left earlier. Mysteriously, the beans are missing.
First blush says that Bubo took them. Except that she doesn’t enjoy green beans. She turns her beak up at them, in fact. And Mordecai has been reading the complete works of Thomas Wolfe on the teak chaise lounge with a full pitcher of Tom Collins. So he didn’t eat them.
I believe, clearly, that there is a bean-loving sloth living in the garden. I’ve noticed nothing zipping through the garden, heard no new noises in the eaves of the house. Clearly the bean-thief is quiet and stealthy. Or so slow that it appears to be stealthy.
I wouldn’t mind having a sloth, truth be told. They seem like my kind of creature.
