I can't believe it's already snake season. Actually, I think I expected to see them earlier, and when I didn't see any, I hoped that last year was a fluke. Or maybe I already got them all. But, alas, I didn't. I killed two when we got home from breakfast this morning. It took forever--they're fast and wily, it turns out. I'm quite sure there's one more in those hedges, but it hasn't turned up again (and I've been frequently checking). Last year I used my "snake killing shovel," which I had by my side, but today I found Jon's golf clubs more useful. I don't think he'll ever use his driver again, which, if he were a sportsman, might mean something.
I want to take a nap, but all I see when I close my eyes is slithering. (Or Slytherin, but I'll review the Harry Potter series later. We're finally done with it.)
The only place (except Facebook!) to find the fantastic ramblings of Elizabeth Shelley, aka Beth Shelley, Beth Westbrook
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