"You mutha!"

 

Reposted here from FB. I forget that smart people don't waste nearly as much time in that particular swamp as I do. And I use to tease my mother about reading the Inquirer!  

What did I get for Mother's Day? Snake bit!

Camilla was laying in the street playing with a huge garter snake who was not impressed. I didn't want either of them run over by a car so I made a poor grab for the one that didn't run off when I shooed her. I foolishly forgot how fast they are and how very sharp and grabby their teeth are."

Such a sensationalist! It bled for two minutes, was a little stiff and swollen by evening, and gone the next morning. And yes, I'm sure there's been a tetanus shot at some point along the life. I have always been fascinated by the nope ropes and will handle one if necessary (like in a drawer in the kitchen) but the first time one bites you or takes a greasy shit on you, you'll remember your place is at least a yard away.

We are being vigilant about snakes. This little idiot wants to play with everything and we do have copperheads in this area. Colin saw a very large, black snake - not sure of its species yet - sunning on a fallen tree in the backyard. That is a good thing as those types tend to run off the bad ones. 

It's nice to be able to show off the deck garden this year without worrying about getting arrested. And I check around those pots for long visitors every time I go out there. The lavender is about to explode with blooms. My indigo seeds failed but I also buried some new peony roots in the same container. They are doing fine. 

On a sadder note, Sweetie clings to the small pleasures, like sleeping in the sun on the front walkway or back deck. Last night she did something that I've been worrying about. Anticipating. 

Just at dusk, she wasn't in any of her predictable resting spots. 

I found her in the front yard at the far edge of the wild island in a sphinx-like pose. Listening. Waiting.

She cannot run or defend herself. She is mostly blind. I fear she's going to take herself off to nature for her last hours, but the thought of losing her to the pain and violence of being taken by coyotes keeps me awake at night. I reach out in the darkness and find her fur. I hold my hand on her until I feel her breathing. Only then I can go back to sleep.