I was seized by guilt and shame yesterday(well, hello my old friends!) at my garden's slow demise and decided to salvage what I could and start planting for fall. I only was two wheelbarrow loads into the clean-up of blooming cilantro and rottign lettuce when mort appeared and wanted to play Frisbee, so I didn't get very far.

However, as I carried the first load of weeds and uh, compost down into the field where the fox resides, I was suddenly struck by the notion that what if the fox wasn't the friendly neighborhood Stella-like creature I imagine it to be? What if it was rabid? What if it had no fear of humans and felt threatened and attacked me? What if up close it wasn't cute and instead was all gnarled and gross?

I loudly announced my presence by yelling, "All animals that live back here, I'm bringing a bunch of food, I don't want to see you. Please just stay hidden!" It worked, but it's amazing how much more appealing seeing the fox is when I'm behind my camera trying to get close to it rather than the other way around.