My brush with death

Yesterday we finally had some much needed rain. Along with it came some thunder and lightning, but for Florida, that's pretty typical. Once the storm had passed (or I thought it had passed), I decided to head out for my evening walk.

Unlike most nights I walk, there was no one else out - no dogs getting walked, no kids riding bikes, no people out strolling - but hey, it had just stormed, right? I keep going, already deep into thoughts about my story. See, I like to work out the upcoming scenes while I walk. I get a lot of great ideas while I'm out. It's a process that works well for me.

I'm about ten minutes from the house, when all of a sudden, this massive bolt of lightning cracks through the sky so close to me that my scalp goes all tingly. Like I had ants all over me. The thunder that followed it was deafening.

A few seconds later, the rain starts back up.

Stubborn woman that I am, I decide to keep going (I am already 10 mins from the house. Looping around or headed straight back isn't going to make that big a difference.) Another two minutes goes by and a second massive bolt of lightning. The rain is coming down harder now. And I'm starting to rethink the wisdom of this walk.

A third bolt of lightning and I'm contemplating running. Or will that attract the lightning? Should I walk closer to the palms that line the street or farther away from them? Crap.

Suddenly, a black SUV comes barreling down the street toward me and screeches to a stop by the curb. Hotrod had come to my rescue! He saw/heard the first bolt of lightning and thunder and immediately hopped in the car when I didn't come back inside after it happened.

My hero! The moral of this story? When it storms, stay inside and use the treadmill.

Now I Know Why They Mow Lawns

Living where we do in Florida, we have a plethora of wildlife that hangs out around our house. Lizards, turtles, the occasional gator and a variety of bird life that would make Audubon jealous - roseate spoonbills, golden hawks, herons, even a bald eagle once. Among this group is perhaps our most frequent and dear visitors, the sandhill cranes.

They have become so comfortable with Hotrod that they eat out of his hand. I've started calling him "the bird whisperer" - funny, aren't I?

Anyway, when he's away, which is often, they barely tolerate my presence when I bring them seed, eyeing me like I'm somehow responsible for Hotrod's absence. Usually I end up dumping the seed, then going inside to watch them. Yesterday as I was doing this, our next door neighbor's yard guys stopped their mowing and edging for a moment.

The edger pointed at the sandhills and proudly proclaimed (with great seriousness and wonder) to the guy on the mower, "Look! Pterodactyls!"

Um...I think even the sandhills started laughing.