Bearded Dragons are opportunistic omnivores, which is just a fancy way of saying they'll eat anything if you let them. The now-departed Golden Sickle Dragons, as I've come to call that particular quartet, are no exception. They're in Brno now...or some other city within the Czech Republic, probably well adjusted to their new home, and possible new companions. As in Prague, they're probably feasting on a variety of plants and bait-shop insects, mostly crickets. During one particular feeding period, I had my camera—not an unusual occurrence, and the sunlight slanting into the Golden Sickle courtyard was particularly intense: proof that summer had arrived and Prague was, thus, able to bask in rather temperate and exceptionally comfortable warmth. I was intrigued by the sunlight, and feeling something of a sentimental attachment to the Catalpa tree leaves gathered, by Kača, for the scaled and softly-spiked quartet. During my childhood, I'd always found myself intrigued by the diminutive Catalpa tree that grew in front of my grandparents' house on the South Side of Chicago. Such a small tree always sported such enormous leaves, and I was playfully convinced that—due to its slow growth and large leaves—that the tree in question was something of an “alien implant.” Seeing Catalpa leaves in Prague gave me a taste of the vanished past, and that—coupled with clear and intense sunlight—inspired me to take at least one picture of at least one leaf. I zoomed in as close as possible, and well...this is the result.