The other morning, in a pre-coffee haze, I walked out to the street to retrieve the newspapers. My stroll was punctuated by stops to look at wildflowers and a spate of "I can't stand it" weed-pulling. Even a zombie hates to see a possumhaw holly strangled.
Out by the street, I was looking down as I climbed out of the ditch clutching the papers, or I might not have seen it. Painted yellow swoops and swirls along the driveway's edge, laid down by a not-very-talented artist. My fuddled brain wondered. What errant artist had been out before dawn decorating a country driveway?
That kind of question begs an answer so I bent for a better look. Aha...a four-legged artist (look closely for the prints).
A raccoon, most likely.
Which raised other questions. Why would a raccoon paint my drive? Did he wear a smock and carry his pot of paint in his mouth? Why yellow? Maybe he was broke, could only afford one color and yellow was on sale. Did he use his tail for a brush? Surely not. Raccoons are finicky. They're all the time washing odd bits in our bird baths.
Oh, a twig.
And then another, bigger question, Could we sell our raccoon art for millions on Ebay? Rarity playing into the price of course.
I walked slow up the drive, my feet matching the speed of my thoughts.
Until I came to the bright yellow answer.
Copyright 2009-2010 Kathleen Scott ,for Hill Country Mysteries. Unauthorized reproduction is prohibited.