31 May 2020. Young Racoon.
A visitor just now, and I'm so used to seeing Goose, the neighbor cat--that this came as a surprise. The same coloring, yes, but then the lift to the shoulders as he made his way through the high grass--not domestic. You know right away. A certain roughness--Chris Alexander's phrase for one of the necessary elements in a good design--a good anything, really--the roughness corresponding to something alive, something not completely controlled. Yes, we give in to the gods--whatever they may demand...
Evenings here of old--when a string of them would parade into the kitchen--the first alert little head peering over the top of the stairs coming up from the back door--two dark eyes set in a black mask, The lady of the house would welcome them, after a fashion, of course. I once had to scoot out a whole family of who were aiming to occupying the downstairs room. Babies included...
But most memorable of all were the visits by Rashi and Tosfos. Talmudic scholars, both--even if they were also in the possum family. Their favorite place being underneath the back side of the couch. That took some doing on my part--a long bamboo pole--just enough to prod them gently into action. I don't know who was most startled--after all they could hear me coming--but a wild living creature like that--in the living room--what can you say?
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Gary Snyder--in his excellent book, The Practice of the Wild, describes how his family would open their Yuba River cabin for one month of the year to all creatures who wished to visit. Indoor deer, for example--or a stream of fire ants making their diagonal across the wooden floor. However, even the Snyders hedged their bets--flour and staples were secured in a strong trunk--and I'm not sure what they did about bear...
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That's the shelf-like bracket mushroom there behind--growing out from the trunk of the mimosa tree. It's gotten quite large now--just the right size for a raccoon umbrella...
