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Rose Petals: The Sleeping Giant in My Garden
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Disclaimer:
Kathleene Runnels is responsible for this content, which is not edited by the Wilson County News or wilsoncountynews.com. |
April 17, 2012 | 749 views | 1 comment
It was late winter, early spring, and the urge to do some yard work was pulling me outdoors. Franklin had taken the kids on some livestock mission, so I got the hoe and began to target the unwelcome winter grass that had annoyingly found a way to lodge around the base of the house. The concrete foundation had a lip that jutted out a bit, and grass was growing out from there. It’s not easy to hoe against concrete, but try I did. Occasionally, I would need to reach down and pull up some stubborn clumps that wouldn’t let me get to them with the hoe.
Blithely, I pulled here and there. Then as I reached my hand down once again to pull up yet another clump, I encountered some other unwelcome tenant. As I touched, (Yes, actually touched), this odd-looking something-or-other that wasn’t grass but I didn’t know what it was, and yet I didn’t have presence of mind enough to think before I actually tried to remove it, I jumped back and wondered, “Wait a minute. What IS that?” I studied it another pregnant second or two before realizing, “Oh-My-Goodness! It’s a snake! Aghhhhh!” So I retrieved the hoe and proceeded to pull said creature out from his winter habitat.
It was THEN that I discovered this something-or-other wasn’t just any ordinary snake; it was a RATTLESNAKE, a sleeping garden giant! Okay. Now I’m speechless. There I stood, hoe in hand, mouth agape, thoughts racing frantically, “Franklin’s not here. What am I going to do? This thing needs to be killed. I don’t use the gun. How am I going to get it good and dead?”
Then, some kind of sense returned, and I finally had presence of mind to realize I had a weapon. I could use the hoe. (Novel idea!) So I began to chop and chop and chop, (Did I say I repeatedly chopped?), until this despicable creature was history.
When Franklin came home, (One might notice a pattern of his not being around when I encounter a rattlesnake), I took him to marvel at my trophy, one that I had killed all by myself this time, thank-you-very-much. But all he could say was, “Well, if it was a rattlesnake, I’ll have to take your word for it. It’s in so many pieces, I can’t tell.” At least it was good and dead. |
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| Your Opinions and Comments |
Elaine K.
Floresville
April 17, 2012 3:18pm
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