My muddy, old barn shoes are not allowed inside, therefore, they reside next to the back door. Most of the time they are protected from the rain. (You know, that wet stuff that comes down from the heavens when Mother Nature decides to bless Arizona). Possibly She's forgotten us on her 2020 list, or maybe Santa told her about the pansies I forgot to water last summer. Whatever the reason, the shoes are not caked with mud, just chicken poop and mule manure.
I learned at a young age that shoes left at the back door are suspect for safe wearing the next day. Tiny snakes love to hide in the dark toe spaces, as well as lizards and insects. Beatles and other spiny insects are especially bad as they can become entangled in your socks. You just can't shake the creatures off - you first have to pry them away from the threads. Yuck. So, I'm especially careful during warn weather, and thump out the creatures before I put them on. Winter, not so much. Too cold for reptiles.
This morning I bopped the shoe heels and emptied my tenies. Nothing. I did manage to awaken a couple of lost rocks. Then I slid my left foot home and felt the crunch of something large, quickly tossing the shoe across the porch.
I looked into the shoe and saw a faint outline of something familiar. A lost (and crunched) maple leaf.
