The Year of the Snake

Just because I have a little time today (it being Memorial Weekend and all) I'm posting TWO things today, with a renewed vow to do better. This blog takes absolutely no time to update; but my heart has to be in it, you know? Summer always brings creativity and the time to pursue it. An interesting correlation -- I also drink more wine and stay up later in the summer. Could that be related to creativity? Or just late-night tipsy hours in front of the computer?

In any case, for those of you who don't have the great privilege of living in the country, I'll let you in on a strange secret. When you look through a field guide, or a regional handbook on flora and fauna, you see the whole gamut of species that thrive in a certain area. And it's true. If you search, they do all exist, however not always in the same proportions (size and population) from year to year.

Each year, depending on the weather, and other natural conditions, certain species do better than others. For example, 9 years ago when we first moved in, we saw hundreds of the largest walking sticks you've ever seen. They were plentiful and gargantuan. "We must be in Texas now," was what we said. Having never seen a walking stick bigger than a matchstick before, we were thrilled and creeped out that these were the thickness and length of a magic marker!

The next year it was Praying Mantises, and not many walking sticks at all. Huge, bright green bugs (5 inches at least, all of them) congregated on the back porch and dropped from doorways (!) every time you went in or out. They set me on edge quite a bit more than those walking sticks because their hopping/flying capabilities lofted them face high, and there was no predictable pattern to their erratic leaps. And then there are those hateful waves of sound they make in chorus, rolling in crescendoes from the insides of trees in the darkness, while one or two (or seven) spring here and there on the path, looking you in the eye as they arc past where you intend to walk. Truly unnerving.

A few years later, the year of albino geckos. Seriously. Almost see-through, with pink eyes.

This year it's snakes. I wouldn't say they're EVERYWHERE, exactly, although the summer has only just begun. So far this spring we've seen 5 of them: slender green ones like this one above, which I adore; fat short gray bull snakes; and those gravel-colored gray/white/black ones. Over the nearly 10 years we've lived here, we've only seen two -- a rattlesnake (which promptly lost its head to a shovel blade) and another one like the one Willie's holding in the picture above.

I know women are supposed to naturally hate snakes (the Genesis story holds water, in my experience; I've known women, and some men, who practically fall apart when they encounter a snake). But they don't bother me so much. I've never seen one look like it wanted anything from me but to leave it alone, except for one time when I must have nicked a large garter snake with a lawn mower. Judging by the way it reared up and hissed, that one was angry, and I quit mowing for the day. Usually I regard snakes in the yard and garden with no more intense feeling than surprise and curiosity. Don't let me find one in the house, though!

Here's the first snake of spring, the color of green filtered sunshine. Love love love.

A Happy Memorial Day to all. Bless the fallen heroes (and their families). May we never forget them or their sacrifices, and the honor they preserved for this great country.