Did I ever tell you I used to ride a motorcycle when I was in my late teens?
Well, I did. And I miss it.
The rush of wind. The cool pockets of air brimming in the valleys. The wet, shaded smell of the forests.
I guess I've officially entered the drifting seas of midlife, because I'm back in the saddle, so to speak. Aine and I have reclaimed our old motorcycling days.
So, yesterday I went out into the countryside to do a little photography, and I ended up in a venerable churchyard. After visiting the oldest of the graves, I got back on the bike to head out.
That's when I noticed him under the speedometer.
Meet my young friend, Master P. Mantis. Seems he likes the bike too.
Just to give you a sense of scale, here is the bugger near the turn signal light, which is about the size of a dime.
Such a perfect little creature. He must be just large enough to be getting out into the world.
Perhaps these little visits are harbingers of larger things.
He hopped from the bike, and I bid him a fine afternoon and evening.
I steered around him on my way back into the corn fields.