Think 'Skink'

Forest and Reef - a very fearful roller-coaster of highs and lows at every level - to be reviewed internally over the next weeks and months.  At this minute the only thing that comes to mind in the enormity of it all is remembering my formidable maternal grandmother saying in acid tones, 'It's no use crying over spilt milk - that doesn't mop it up any faster.' Although she was speaking more of childish misdemeanours rather than acid rain.
 I need to get back to my weeding and looking out for the small things. So, here is one of the most cheering of my gardening companions. These small skinks live everywhere and have such a big smile when you get down to their level - although a wide mouth is also a diskinked advantage in eating insects larger than your own head. They scuttle off into the undergrowth as I work along the forest edge, flattening their homes and habitat, and then as I have a breather come skittering back and feast on all the disturbed wildlife that are more disorientated than they are by the world being turned upside down. Sometimes they get so enthusiastic they jump onto my trousers and try to eat the pattern before realising the mistake.