Monday, October 10, 2011
I love chipmunks. It never fails to make my day when I'm walking the sidewalks at school and one of these tiny creatures zips along the edge of the shrubbery next to me, or skims across the concrete in front of me. I'm okay with squirrels, too, but they're so much more ubiquitous. They almost seem to be a part of our world, their digging and quarreling and chase games taking place in front of our eyes as we rush to class, or soak in the gorgeous autumn days. Chipmunks, on the other hand, are much more rarely seen (at least by me). They're almost like fairies, living their parallel existence on the same patch of terra firma that we call our own, only occasionally compelled to pop into our universe when they really need to get from point A to point B and the fastest route is along the edge of flower bed. It's a good creative exercise to consider how my world looks to them. Of course it's a player in their lives, but it's not like we're gods. They do their thing, and sometimes they have to adjust for these large beings that lumber past at such astonishingly slow speeds. But I don't really like them because they give me some sort of grist for existential pondering. Mostly I like them because they're so unbelievably adorable. I mean, really. How could you not?