I think she meant to look both ways before crossing a street, but because we lived between creek and forest, she may have meant watch for creatures, as in dangerous ones. Now more than 55 years later, I still remember watching her kill a copperhead with her hoe while she was gardening. She buried the snake and then continued her work in the rock garden.
Watch where you walk equally applies to me and my mouth. I often open mouth and insert foot, usually because I think I'm being ironic or funny. The audience doesn't always agree. I also insert foot by being honest. I should edit, people who love me advise, but editing isn't in my nature.
Witness yesterday: 399 photographs in about 75 minutes. Admittedly, I deleted most of them after checking them on the computer, but still: how many photos of swallowtails and buckeyes does one person need? Answer: none.
It's the taking that matters, and for that I must learn to watch where I walk so as not to startle or crush the very thing I admire. Yesterday, I almost trod on a Red-spotted purple lying in the sidewalk (I chased it around the yard) and an Eastern Tailed-blue butterfly in Abbo's Alley grass, and today I almost crunched a little leaf-hopper resting on a grass blade.
Happily, they escaped, but I must continue to work on the watching lest I trod on something or someone and kill it.
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