Every year, the snake
returns to the front garden,
reminding me of my ambivalent
relationship with the
great outdoors.
At least, I assume it’s
the same snake. I’m not
quite sure of a snake’s average
lifespan, but I know
that I’ve been seeing a progressively
larger snake every
summer for three
years.
It is a garter snake, I
think. I tried looking up
species of New York snakes,
but the photos and descriptions
made me feel like I
was about to shed my own
skin, so I closed the browser.
Assuming it’s the same
snake, let’s call her Serpentina,
she has grown to a
healthy length of 18 inches
or so. She is greyish brown
with yellowish stripes running
the length of her, close
to the ground. In the mornings
or on days when the
garden is particularly cool
and wet, Serpentina likes
to make her way out onto
the stone walkway, where
she waits to scare the
beejeziss out of me when I
take out the dogs or walk to
my car.
Okay, I know she is not
trying to frighten me. I
know she is trying to get
herself all warm and dry.
And I know that I am far
more frightening to her
than she is to me. I know
this because she slithers
back into the garden the instant
she sees me coming.
The problem is, she usually
sees me before I see her. I
see her when she makes
that last-ditch effort to
avoid being stepped on, and
I scream — the very same
scream I scream when a
cow looks in my dining
room window.
It’s not dignified.
I love the outdoors. I love
the garden overflowing
with lilies and Queen
Anne’s lace and dotted with
wild strawberries. I love
that it’s possible to walk
barefoot in the yard, something
you could never do in
my Southern hometown,
unless you wanted to shred
your feet to ribbons on sand
spurs. I love the hillsides
and sunsets and moonlight
pouring over the surface of
the lake. I can think of almost
nothing so splendid
and breathtaking as the
landscape that surrounds
us.
But deep in my heart, I
know that I am less like
Thoreau and more like Eva
Gabor’s Lisa Douglas on
``Green Acres.’’ I understand
the romance of retreating
to Walden and living
in harmony with the
natural world. But the natural
world is just so startling.
Reach into the garden
for a strawberry, and a
snail might decide to hitchhike
on your hand. Pad
barefoot through the warm
grass, but look out for a
rain of tent caterpillars
from above.
Nature inspires and
soothes, but it also creeps
up behind you and says,
``Boo!’’ Or it slithers along
your sidewalk and says,
``Don’t mind me — I’ll just
be in your garden giving
birth to live young.’’
Elizabeth Trever Buchinger
wonders if there’s a
merit badge for shrieking.
You can connect with her at
www.moremindfulfamily.wordpress.com.
This Wonderful Life
July 9, 2009
This Wonderful Life: I call her 'Tina' for short
- This Wonderful Life
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- This Wonderful Life: I can say No, but I prefer Yes If popular culture is any indication, it seems women suffer from an epidemic inability to refuse additional responsibilities. Magazines, self-help books and therapists nationwide offer heaps of advice on how to assert oneself, draw boundaries and generally say No when asked to sign on for those things for which we have little time and less interest.
- This Wonderful Life: I wish someone had told me Disclaimer: Because my son more or less demanded that I stop using him and his life as material for my column back when he was 12 or 13, I want to make it perfectly clear to all my readers (and any legal professionals who are now retained or may be retained at some future time by aforementioned son) that this column is not about him. It’s about me. The fact that he happened to turn 21 on Saturday is mere coincidence. So help me God.
- This Wonderful Life: A view through bare branches Every morning, Bee and I stand at the end of the driveway waiting for her bus and we look up into the branches of the elm tree that arches over the drive.
- This Wonderful Life: To Posey on her fourth So here we are, on the other side of 3-years-old, and it seems we both survived it intact. It wasn’t easy, but perhaps it made us both stronger.
- This Wonderful Life: A Posey by any other name... A few weeks ago, Posey gave us all new names. Or, to be more accurate, Posey gave us all one new name. Rose.
- This Wonderful Life: Are pork chops really that good? If it seems unlikely for a vegetarian (that would be me) to own a couple of table- bound pigs, it probably seems downright absurd that their names should be Tender and Delicious.
- This Wonderful Life: I sssssseeeeeee you there The first thing you should know is that I used to suffer from a snake phobia. The operative word there is phobia. It wasn’t just a matter of disliking snakes. It wasn’t a fear of being bitten. It wasn’t a simple reluctance to touch their impossibly dry, nimble bodies.
- This Wonderful Life: What’s so funny? My kids, I hope In my experience as a three-time parent, there is something absolutely, spiritually magical about the first time your child cracks a joke.
- This Wonderful Life: Who are these little girls? There are two children in my house who bear a striking resemblance to my daughters. They are adorable, smart and energetic.
- This Wonderful Life: A harvest that’s good for the soul Signs of harvest are all around. The afternoon sun glows amber over the fields and the farm stands are filled to overflowing with vegetables and fruit. We’re lucky to live in a place where we can have such an immediate connection to the food we eat.
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