I used to spend summers with my grandparents. One week out of the summer I would attend vacation bible school for a few hours and then spend the rest of the day riding my bike down country roads or lazy afternoons on the front porch breaking beans with my Mamaw. One time I ran over a snake on my bicycle that seemed to stretch across the entire road. I sat at the end of the road for hours in fear that the snake would still be there when I made my return trip back home. Never fear, Papaw to the rescue. When I hadn’t returned, he came looking for me. He loaded my bike into the back of his truck and we headed home. The snake wasn’t there fyi, trust me I looked. My grandmother loved her flowers. They grew around the porch, at the road in containers and in the most unusual places. She loved perennials. To this day, a few are still blooming. One time when we were hunting Easter eggs, a Black Racer (snake) bolted around the house as I was looking for eggs. I guess you can see where my story is going with this….


My other grandmother lived not far away. We spent most weekends there growing up. It is just down the road from my farm. Dorothy loved her garden. Dorothy hated snakes. Dorothy was braver than me however. Everywhere she went she took an empty pie pan and a stick. If there was a snake within a mile, she meant to scare it off. I might insert here that she always had a hoe nearby as well. As you can see my fear for snakes began early.


My dad and I used to fish all the time. He taught me everything I know. Kenneth was thrifty! I learned that from him as well. Rule #1 when fishing with him, thou shalt not lose a hook, a bobber or a lure if you get hung up. Many a time we took that little boat right up to shore underneath a canopy of trees to retrieve a snagged line. Then there was the day a family of snakes dropped out of the trees into the boat!!!!! That was the day I learned to cast on a dime! Hell to the no was that going to happen again.


Moral of the story here. I hate snakes. The only good snake is a dead snake. No, it is not more scared of me than I am of it. No, it isn’t a good snake that eats bad snakes. No, it doesn’t matter if it is poisonous or non-poisonous. It doesn’t matter if it is worm size or 10 feet. It’s a snake, and they must ALL die. There’s no amount of therapy that can fix my fear. I have snake-dar. If there’s one around I want to see it before it sees me.


And lastly, to the brown water snake that rolled up on shore the other night with a fish in its mouth. I hope you enjoyed your last meal. And………I’ll never lay by the fire at night by the water ever ever ever again.