It's Not Easy Being Green

I took an early dip in the ocean after my walk this morning and then rinsed off in the pool. I was joined by this praying mantis. I've never seen one here before. The more usual wildlife being chickens, lizards and goats, lots of goats.
I was remembering the first time we took the kids here. It was 1986. MacDaughter, a sophomore in high school, was coming off mononucleosis and was in dire need of a little sun and air after spending four pale winter weeks in her room watching General Hospital. MacSon would have been a sixth grader, his first year at IS "FiftyOnes,"
At the "villa" MacHub and I were drinking beer in the daytime, as it was a bit overcast for the beach, while his sister was flat out on a lounge chair with her ears plugged into one of those bright yellow Sony Walkman things they all had. Probably listening to The Stray Cats or Joe Jackson.
Bored of us, he wandered away into the dry scrubby fields on the cliff over the sea and discovered a baby goat entangled in his tether and bleating loudly. No mama goat in sight. Being a Brooklyn boy he was wary of touching the thing. But his soft heart and life-long draw towards the helpless (which would become something of an issue later on) kept him near the goat where he (and he freely admitted this all the while knowing how laughable it sounded) sang The Greatest Love of All, it was the mid-eighties you remember, to the goat until it calmed down enough to extricate itself.

Anguilla Consumption log:
Dinner at the Rasta place. Excellent fish and lemon pasta preceded by some rum punch concoction that was a little too fruity for me so I had to wash it down with some dry white wine.