"Oh, horsefeathers!" muttered Gertrude.
"There is no such thing as horsefeathers," retorted Lova the Lizard.
"Well, it is something to say that is better than what I could have said," she responded. "Leave me alone. I am working. Don't stand there; you will get me off track!"
"What difference would that make? What you are doing isn't all that great anyway. . . . And you know it." Lova was not an artist, and had no patience with those who made any attempt to express their creative gifts.
"Just exactly what are you trying to achieve with those bits of trash?" asked the sneering Lova.
Gertrude lifted fully half of her long body off the limb and glared at the lizard with her huge eyes, "These 'bits of trash' are hummingbird feathers I gathered with great care and effort. Their irridescence catches the sun in a most marvelous way. I am making a mosaic of them here on this tree where I like to sit and contemplate the good things in my life."
"If the sun is so important why don't you work in the sun. This is shade."
"It is summer now. I am making it for the winter when all the leaves have fallen off the tree. Then the mosaic will catch the full power of the sun's rays, as will I, lying next to it."
"It makes no sense, all that work. Just go lie on a rock today and every other day and look at the scenery."
"You go lie on a rock," shouted Gertrude. "I am not going to listen to you any more. Period."
Lova looked up into the sky, "Maybe you should listen to me about the hawk that is higher up and is eyeing you. Might want to take cover."
Gertrude kept working. Hawk or no hawk, sun or no sun, lizard or no lizard. She was an artist. If she did not create something today, she would shrivel up and die anyway.