I couldn’t decide between the title above and a title more like, “A Morning in the Garden.” Both are drastically different in sound; both are true.
I love mornings. ‘Twas not always so, but it kind of was always so. (Did that make any sense?) Anyway, the mornings I can step outside and water the flowers and garden are especially, aaaahhhhhhh. So I watered, and checked my rose sticks – the bare root roses I ordered and planted exactly according to the instructions are not looking promising. I am worried. And then I moved to the back vegetable garden to soak things there. These are not pictures taken in the morning, but they are pictures nonetheless…
Ok, so see the white things in the picture below?
They are egg shells. We eat A-LOT of eggs, actually, Caleb eats a lot. I eat a “normal” amount. hahaha. You think I’m exaggerating. Well, just ask the lady I saw in Dillons the other day who looked at the twelve dozen eggs in my cart and said, “Oh! Oh myYYY!” They’ll last us an entire month, ok? It’s not like we eat them in a week.
Aaaaaanyway, we save the shells and put them in the garden because I read some organic gardening article that said plants like whatever’s in eggshells. Normally, I crunch them up in pieces, but this time I just dumped ’em.
Why am I saying all this? Because of THIS that I found this perfectly beautiful morning…
He’s EATING my EGGSHELLS. I don’t like snakes, ok? Call me a sissy, call me a wimp. I. Don’t. Care. They ain’t fur me. I think it’s linked to the childhood experience of having a nest of black snakes hatch around our chicken house one summer. Try gathering eggs when you walk in and meet one of these lovelies hanging down from the rafters in front of your face or curled in the corner…Blech. I hate them.
So, I go in the house to grab the camera, of course, and to call Caleb. (He should have been awake at 6:30 anyway.) “Do we prefer to have mice running around or snakes?” “Huh?” groans he. “Mice or snakes! Mice or snakes!” Can’t he understand? “I hate, hate, hate snakes and don’t want to run into them as I am gardening, but I know they eat mice, so which do we want?” The Man logically replies, “If you don’t like snakes then kill it.” Ok. That’s simple. (Why can’t I come up with these decisions on my own?)
I go back to the garden armed with shovel and camera. The snake was too busy eating, so he wouldn’t mind me getting a couple good ‘n’ close shots, right? I considered calling Tracey so she could wake her four children at 6:30 am so they could see this kind of cool nature thing. Then I thought she just might come after me with a shovel if I did call. (Your loss, Tracey.) And then…
…the stupid thing decides I’m too close, and be backs up and slithers under the garage. Nuh uh! I grab the shovel and pin his tail. (Do snakes have tails?) “I got his tail! I got his tail!” says me to myself. Now what do I do with it? Next came a tug of war between me and the beastly thing. They must have pretty good traction. I tried to drag him back; he refused to come. I twisted and turned; he stayed. I start whimpering…and wondering if a tailless snake will die just as good as a headless snake. I carefully put down my camera whilst keeping the pressure on the shovel. Then I jump on that there shovel. He may live, but I’m NOT going to give him the satisfaction of living whole. I jump again…and again. Was it my dull, old shovel or just a tough ol’ snake? I thought they chopped easily??? I kind of sawed; I jumped; I ground it into the dirt. The tail would not come off. In my last desperate attempt, I lifted the shovel to get a good swinging chop at it. Yeah, well, snakes are fast.
Needless to say after this struggle with nature, I didn’t win. And I’ll forever be scanning, searching, scared of a snake who has a crooked tail in my garden.
I hate snakes, but the adventure was a blessing! (I think.)