On our walk today, right at the place where we turn around because the path along the creek stops, and it gets kind of Blair Witch/Deliverance right there (what with the old tires and ropes hanging from the trees and all), I heard a noise I didn’t much care for, like something sneaking up on us, but the dog, who’s afraid of nothing (except thunder, firecrackers, the vacuum cleaner, the coffee grinder, and opening the freezer door), took no notice, so we went on our way.
There are enough weird noises coming from my own garden at this time of year that I don’t need more. Sounds of creeping, and breaking branches, and excessive amounts of rustling. It doesn’t help much that the dog often stares into the dark corner of the yard at Tinkle Time (right before bed), as though there were something there, waiting, and watching.
I don’t even like to go into the corner during the day, but not for that reason. The corner is bounded on the east side by a thicket of New Mexican locust (Robinia neomexicana); pretty clusters of rose-pink flowers, and ordinary looking greenery. This thing just plain creeps me out. Not something I want to be anywhere near, because on a couple of occasions I’ve been much too close to it. Or the other way around.
Look closer.
Still don’t see them?
How about now?
the miserable gardener 