Fright And Grief

When I arrived home tonight, Mrs. Orr was cooking up a feast of salmon patties, new potatoes, green beans and a cucumber & tomato salad. We ate, and then Jinx and I went out for our evening stroll. A couple of years ago, one of my readers helped me identify a type of milkweed I’d never seen before. That same strain of milkweed is everywhere this year. As Jinx and I walked, I counted more than eighty of the plants along a twenty yard stretch of our road. The butterflies will be well pleased.

Back at the house, I decided to set all of my wife’s pot flowers (as in flowers in pots, not the more exciting kind) out in the yard, since we’re due to get rain tonight and tomorrow. I lugged ’em all out there and placed them under the open sky. After several trips, there were just two left, sitting on a corner-hugging stand on the front porch. I picked them up, once in each hand, toted them out to the grass, and plunked them down.

As soon as the pots hit the earth a baby copperhead about a foot long leaped out of one of the pots. I made some sort of incomprehensible noise and jumped back. The memory of the blacksnake bite a few weeks ago boiled up in me, but with the new vitamin-fortified terror of the instant realization that this snake was a venomous pit viper. I plunked the heavier terra cotta pot down on the snake’s head to hold him, jogged to the back yard and got my hoe, then returned and sheared off the serpent’s head. I will confess to being a bit jumpy for a few minutes afterwards. I don’t care what the Chinese calendar says, this IS the year of the snake at our farm.

And for the record, that photo above is a stock photo from the internet. The snake is about the size of the one I killed. I didn’t have the presence of mind to fetch my phone and take a picture.

***

After the copperhead episode, I came in and cleaned up and sat down to catch up on some emails and read a few  blogs. I recently found a blog that I enjoy very much, written and maintained by a very lively Irish grandfather who lives in a small village on the Emerald Isle. He’s an irascible storyteller and a true delight.

When I checked his blog tonight, I was saddened to read a post about his grandson, who was born severely handicapped, dying in his sleep two days ago.

If you are inclined to pray, please pray for Grandad and his family during their time of grief.

~ S.K. Orr