I saw a skink yesterday. Twice! A five-lined skink, to be specific. It was hanging out in the sun on the sidewalk beside the retaining wall around the church yard next door. There are little holes at the bottom of the wall for drainage and it was half in and half out of one of the holes. I thought at first it might be dead, but when I came out the second time, it finally scurried back into his hole.
How many people walked by and didn’t see it there? How many times have I walked by and not seen it? I don’t want to read too much into the incident of the skink, but seeing it seems important. A reward. An omen. A gift for an April afternoon.