Holding hands behind the barn

One of my photo classmates, all of fourteen years old, is an inspiration to me in the way he sees, and photographs, mundane objects. Yesterday afternoon I went touring the yard in search of uninteresting things that I might make interesting.

For example, one oak leaf blown by the wind and caught between the barn wall and the downspout...

Then I saw this beauty.

Northern walking sticks apparently like to eat oak leaves. I wonder if this guy was working his way up the wall overnight toward that old dried out leaf. Walking sticks are nocturnal and just hang around during the day; maybe he'd been caught by the dawn in his mission and would resume his travels later in the day.

He couldn't have picked a place less easy for him to camouflage himself. In my Googling around, I've assured myself that it's a male . . . the females are fatter.

Figures.

I have never seen one this big (look at his frog legs!), and I could probably count on my fingers all the walking sticks I have seen in my life.

We held hands for just a moment . . .

. . . and I went on my way.