A Little Visitor

One of the nicest things about our cute and delightful little Casita Sonrisa is the office. An office, I say! A room for working and books and sitting down to do things for work that keep me out of sight of my bed, the refrigerator, and the back yard. It's marvelous. When I was living in Matagalpa doing research, a guy I became friends with drew me a picture of the city, nestled in among the mountains. I taped that picture to the door of the office and now when I need to do work, I simply announce to myself (and Birdie, because she needs to know as well), "I am going to Nicaragua!" Then I walk in the office, close the door, sit at my desk, and work. This is excellent. No distractions. Except...

Sometimes I get riveted by what goes on right outside the window I sit in front of. The other day, I watched a red-headed woodpecker feed her nest of peckerlings in the tree across the street. Last week a cat sat upon my porch and groomed herself in highly entertaining detail. And then just two days ago, a little teeny tiny baby opossum ("the other white meat," as we say back in North Carolina) climbed up on the porch and started sniffing around. Naturally, I grabbed my hunting rifle. Er, no, that's wrong. Camera. I meant to say camera. Yes.

As I was saying, I grabbed my camera and sprinted out to the front porch to take pictures. By the time I got there, however, something had startled the baby possum, and it was nowhere to be found. Undeterred, I looked about, certain it couldn't have gotten far. "Here, little possumy-wossumy! Where aaaarrreee youuuuuuu?" I heard a little hissing sound coming from the corner, and approached with caution. Are you in the box? No. Are you under the chair? No. Are you...

In the map? Yes.



There she was, inside the rolled up map of the world. She stared me down, swaying her head back and forth, hissing at me incessantly. You know that rule that applies to all of nature, how no matter how ugly an adult version of something is, the baby is always cute? Not true. Not true at all, when it comes to possum. Can you see her? I tried to get my camera to focus on the bottom, but was thwarted at every turn, so this is as good as it gets:



I think I'll call her Carmen Sandiego.