Of Snakes and Mowers

This is a tale of a mower and a snake.

And a heroine that does not like snakes. I repeat, DOES NOT like snakes.

This particular heroine had a yard that was in desperate need of attention and trimming. Even though it was 105-110 degrees most of the summer with very little rain. This heroine and her family had taken it upon themselves to water said yard, so there was at least green grass around the house and underfoot instead of everything being brown and crunchy.

Visitors from a far away place had come to stay and play for about a week. It was a delightful week, especially because it was the heroine’s sister and her family that were visiting. Everyone swam and played and laughed and ate and drank and no one did anymore work than what had to be done. (This explains the overgrown and shaggy lawn.) It was with much sadness that the time drew nigh for the visitors to depart. With many hugs and gathering of bags and baggage they were fondly bid farewell and Godspeed.

After working around her home and putting some things away and some things in the laundry and some things in a pile that her sister’s daughters had forgotten, the heroine knew it was past time to start her mower. So, she ventured out to her dear husband’s shed where he had her mower ready for her to use.

The heroine began the task of mowing her too tall grass. As it was too tall the grass came out of the mower and lay in large tufts across the newly mown yard. Being a rather untidy look, ms. heroine attempted to double back over places she had mowed.

Venturing back toward the front yard where she had already mowed, with the plan to mow over some of the unsightly tufts from the previous mower rounds, something caught her attention from the corner of her eye. A movement. A slithering movement. A…yes, a SnaKe!!

Her first impulse was to flee to the shed where her husband was working and beg for him to come to her self-defense. Then, reason kicked in a little. In all likelihood, said snake would be long gone till dear husband could arrive on the scene. Then no one would know for sure where said snake had gone. Reason also said, “Dear heroine, you are on a mower. A mower that is running. You are bigger than that snake.” The heroine knew all this to be true, but there were still shudders going up and down her backbone and she felt like she was facing off with a fire-breathing dragon. (We might add at this point, for our dear readers, that the heroine is not particularly brave or courageous.) She gathered her courage and tried to push from her mind the vision of a snake being flipped up onto her lap by the mower. She held her breath and gave chase and mowed over that snake that had dared to enter her yard. And it worked. The snake was no longer a threat. And suddenly, the unsightly clumps of grass did not matter nearly so much.

The heroine then headed straight for the shed with a few more shudders going up and down her spine. She found her husband and told him her dreadful tale and “Would he please come get the pieces out of her yard?” The gallant man obliged and was definitely the hero of the day.

The heroine managed to finish mowing the rest of her too tall grass without incident, only a shudder now and then. She reflected that  the too tall grass and the watering of the yard probably attracted Mr. Snake in the first place. There had also been quite a passage of time since the last time a snake had ventured into her yard, so a snake sighting was probably overdue. She was also quite thankful that she was on her mower and not, say, walking barefoot through her yard.

Thus we have come to the end. The end of our tale and the end of one snake that was most likely only slithering his way unwittingly across our heroine’s yard and meant no harm. Unfortunately, a snake in her yard never seems exactly harmless to this heroine.