I set down my circus of ceramic elephants—teal, white and lime. When I looked up, I wondered why the chipmunks are so brave and bold this year. One sat on the wall watching me unload patio kitsch from the basement.

“Wait a minute,” I whispered, “You’re no chipmunk—you’re a baby red squirrel. I’ll bet it was your momma who chewed through the birdseed bin and ate all of the sunflower seeds. She was hungry, expecting a litter of kits!”

Doubtful of my success, I eased over to the sliding screen door, tiptoed onto the basement tile, and then raced up the navy carpeted stairs. I found my phone on the tan granite right where it’s supposed to live. Luck was on my side!

Racing back down the stairs, tiptoeing across the tile, and stepping back into the sunshine, I found the toddler still perched on the wall. The little one was sampling a section of a dahlia tuber.

“You waited? Why aren’t your instincts telling you to hide?”

For ten minutes or more I watched the curious and trusting red tail explore and scamper about the stone patio. I laughed out loud when four paws tried to climb the Delft flower pot containing pansies, marigolds and moss roses. Little One learned quickly that its sharp claws were no match for the pots smooth, hard exterior. Back to the wood pile!

While all of this merry making was going on, Little One was curious and trusting. On several occasions the furry infant took several leaps toward me as if it’d like to try ascending my bare legs. Each time I dodged left, right, or back, leaving black eyes blinking, and wondering what game to try next.

I followed the fluff across the lawn and was relieved when it disappeared into some tall grass bordering the yard. I wondered if trusting Little One would develop the strength and instincts to keep it safe from hungry hawks, snakes, and foxes.

Mother Nature has given me a ticket to the Big Show this spring!

What will I see today?

What will you see today?

You can't be suspicious of a tree, or accuse a bird or a squirrel of subversion or challenge the ideology of a violet. ~Hal Borland