I very nearly stepped on a snake a few minutes ago.
In my flip-flops, no less.
Gibson and I were out for a walk, and … I guess … so was the snake. The surprise was mutual.
The snake blended right in with the grass, and even though I immediately whipped out my camera, it took me a bit to find it again. When I did, it was sliding between rocks into my neighbours’ fire pit. They had a fire a couple of days ago, and it still has warm spots. Last night got cold and the sun hasn’t completely heated the day yet, so maybe the snake was looking for a cozy spot to warm up.
My summer vacation is nearly over. When I get back, I’ll hit the ground running, as the saying goes.
I wonder where that saying came from?
I can feel my insides ramping up, my brain starting to sort out strategies and communications as we head into a new season. Part of me wants to fully engage, “get ahead” a little (as if that’s a real thing). Part of me resists, knowing how much I’ve needed this rest.
Today, I hope to finish the insurance paperwork for the contents lost in the flood. Everything is moving slowly in that process, including me.
I miss the city. I was raised small-town, but 29 years of urban life has converted me to a city girl. I miss walking for groceries whenever I need a few things.
But I know when we get back there (whenever that happens), I’ll miss living here too, this little 684 square foot place in the middle of nowhere. The sound of wind in the trees. The slam of an old screen door in the distance.
No sirens or traffic here. No orange cones.
Just a snake, looking for a warm place to rest, cozy and unbothered.
Me too, buddy. Me too.