Yesterday I took two of my kids down to Connecticut to see my parents at their assisted living apartment and drop off a Kindle for my mom. At one point during our visit, we decided to take a walk to a deck overlooking a small pond on the property.
“They warned us about a snake in a tree at dinner last night,” my mom told me as she pushed her walker on the path to the pond.
I laughed, “Mom, this is Connecticut it’s not the Amazon. Connecticut doesn’t have snakes in trees. It’s probably just a stick in the tree that someone mistook for a snake.”
Oh, these older people, what will they come up with next?
My mother, being my mother, looked at me, waited and then kept her counsel while she continued walking.
As we continued on the path, Trevor pointed out something in the trees. “Mom, is that?…”
Then Griffin chimed in, “No way, is that really a…?
Yup. It was a GIANT black snake sitting in a tree. Just sitting there mocking us.
It was easily a hundred feet long and as wide as a Volkswagon Beetle.
For those who don’t follow me on Facebook, you probably don’t know about my terror of all things snakes. Someday when I’m an old woman, I’m going to stumble across a snake and that’s going to be it – heart will stop and lights out for Wendy.
My heart started racing and I began getting that prickly feeling in my hands. I. Do. Not. Like. Snakes.
“Are you kidding?” I yelled, “There is a snake in a tree, people know about it and it’s still there? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?” It was all so unfair.
As far as I was concerned it was time to turn back. That’s it, walk is over, even though it was a gorgeous day, let’s go inside and look at the photographs again. Maybe we could start a puzzle.
I stood there, paralyzed, sure that if I made a sudden move the snake would fly from the tree and try to attack me.
“You big fat baby,” my sons called to me. “It’s just a snake.” I noticed that they were both accusing me of cowardice while they stood a respectable distance from the snake on the other side of the walkway.
“What?” my mother asked me, “You don’t want to go out to the water because of a snake?”
Not wanting my sons to see any weakness in me (nothing to do with being a mom and everything to do with blackmail) I accepted the challenge when they dared me to walk by the snake onto the deck. Well I’d show them.
I haven’t jogged in several years but yesterday I would have given Usain Bolt a run for his money. Once safely past the snake and under the roof of the deck, I breathed a sigh of relief.
Until I looked around and saw the half dozen wasp and yellow jacket nests. I suddenly realized that the hundreds of flying insects that I had assumed were nothing but cute, tiny dragonflies were not.
Talk about jumping from the pan into the fire.
“ARE YOU KIDDING ME??????” I yelled to my safe family on the other side of the snake. Realizing that there was nothing to do but go back the way I came, (swimming in the water wasn’t an option as my mother has just finished telling me the story of a large snapping turtle they had recently seen) I released a sigh so deep it must have come from my toes.
I ran back to my mom and as far as I could get from the several levels of hell that was that pond. As we started walking away, I looked back to give that snake the dirtiest look I could muster to let it know – you come after us and you’re a dead snake.
“Oh Wendy,” my mom said “It’s just a snake. Snakes aren’t trouble. They eat insects.”
I looked at my crazy mother and even though I am a genetic clone of her, for the first time in my life, I wondered if I had been adopted. It was the only explanation that made sense.
Time to go in, mom. It’s time to go in.
Wendy Thomas writes about the lessons learned while raising children and chickens in New Hampshire. Contact her at Wendy@SimpleThrift.com
Also, join me on Facebook to find out more about the flock (children and chickens) and see some pretty funny chicken jokes, photos of tiny houses, and even a recipe or two.
Like what you read here? Consider subscribing to this blog so that you’ll never miss a post. And feel free to share with those who may need a little chicken love.