I thought it was a leaf, looking down, all flat and veined and green there on the concrete. At least until it waved an impossibly long, slender antenna, capturing my attention. Nestled up under the garage door, it must have sought shelter from the encroaching cold of an Autumn night only to find itself precariously perched behind the projected trajectory of the Honda’s tires.

It was my first-ever katydid sighting, surely something not to be taken lightly. I was not about to be a slayer of this curious, green visitor. I hustled it up onto a magic carpet — a handy scrap of paper — and transported it to the hillside so it might find its way back to greenery, to the trees where it likes to spend its nights in concert with its kind, singing, “katy-did, katy-didn’t.”

Grateful for its visit to my garage this morning.