I'm not quite sure if lizards "nest," but if they do, a family of them has chosen to do so right beside my kitchen door. I notice them regularly as they scamper about, sometimes on the brick path to the backyard, sometimes along the short retaining wall at the foot of my bank.
Right now, as the morning sun begins to break through the fog in its first torch-like efforts toward what promises to be a blistering day, one glances this way as if it knows I am writing about it. It -- I don't know how to determine the gender of lizards, and I'm not much interesting in finding out -- has started doing push-ups, as they often do. This amuses me at the same time that it prompts a whisper of guilt, for it is I who should be doing a fitness regimen.
On a recent day, I noticed a mother and baby -- at least that is how I want to think of the pair, one larger and one smaller -- doing their push-ups in tandem. They provided one of my moments of joy for the day as I observed them. Was it a generational lesson in lizard behavior? Was the baby just doing what comes naturally? Was mother showing a "See what my child can do!" attitude? Were they dancing together to some internal lizard rhythm?
I have begun to regard them as my writing muses. In my imagination, I have thought that a muse would sit on my shoulder and whisper encouragement, wisdom and a stellar command of vocabulary in my ear. For now, however, my inspiration apparently has come in the form of a family of four-legged reptiles.
So be it.
