Friday before Memorial Day, both Larry and I were off work. We stayed home, ready for our sons and their famileis to arrive. About 3pm I put in the last load of wash--and there was no water. None. Zip.
Quick call to the well guy. He said to turn off the breaker, wait an hour and call him back. We did. Called back. Got his voicemail. Bummer.
Next step was to figure out how to cope: lots of company and no water. Rearranged the guests--men can handle lack of water, women and girls revolt. Female guests to stay at Derek's house, a few miles away, and two of the guys here. Trip to town for bottled water and gallon jugs of drinking water. Realization that our pool had about 7000 gallons of water we could use to flush the commode. We were set for a weekend without water.
Saturday was a fine day. I cooked a big country breakfast of eggs, bacon, toast, grits. The men looked at the pump to figure out what was wrong. They decided our pump was dead. Our well is 723 feet deep, and replacing the pump is about $2000 more than we figured on spending this weekend. Still, if it's gone, it's gone, and we'd have to cough up the money if it came to that. Everyone left for various points in the afternoon, and only Larry, George, Clayton and I spent the night here.
Sunday morning, still no water. Poppa Larry and grandson Clayton decided to make a bow and arrow from sticks and string. That was because Larry told him about the time he was playing cowboys and Indians in an abandoned house. They played for real--their arrows were sharpened to fine points on the end. When Larry spotted a boy named Booge leaning out a broken second-floor window, he saw a great opportunity. He sneaked up behind Booge and let his arrow fly. It hit Booge square in the back, and he fell out of the window yelling AGH! It was just like the movies. When Booge hit the ground, though, the movie stopped and reality started. Larry got chased all the way home by one mad big boy. Narrow escape from certain pain.
After that story (which also had to include a description of cap wire that coal camp kids used to string their bows, and how they used dynamite to mine house coal) Clayton had to have a bow. He and Larry went in search of the right wood and I started yet another breakfast for the ones who would soon be arriving.
I looked outside and saw Clayton and Larry whittling a stick. That was too good a picture, so I stepped out the door on my way to get my camera out of the car. There on the porch was a five foot black snake, sunning on the warm floor.
Yeah right. That was my first reaction. Larry put a rubber snake there to scare me. Then it moved. Not a rubber snake. I yelled for Larry and grabbed a rake and started pushing the snake off the porch. It didn't want to go and made it clear by hissing at me and trying to bite the rake. I finally got it off the porch and onto the sidewalk when Larry and Clayton arrived--and scared the snake under the porch.
Now I don't mind snakes. They have their place in the food chain and are handy to have around barns and sheds. We always have one living in one of our outbuildings, it seems. But they have all the outdoors to roam, so when they invade my space, they're cheating. I only have a few square feet compared with their kingdoms. A snake under the porch means there could very well be a snake under the house. A snake under the house just might decide to climb up a water pipe or something and be inside the house. And that is completely against my rules of co-existence.
As we were talking about how to get the snake out from under the porch, the dogs decided it for us. There was a sudden, loud, furious battle. Clayton ran to look, and saw Raven come out victorious with the recently deceased snake.
I can't say I was happy about it. I would have preferred to chase the snake off into the woods. On the other hand, I didn't want the snake under the house either. Clayton took it up into the woods and left it there.
They say that a snake never dies until after sunset. I meant to go up the hill and see if the body was still there in the afternoon, but I never had time that day. So I don't know if that legend is true. I'll just believe that it is.
Last weekend must have been the time for snakes. I found three residing in the maple in the front yard. One out back. We're usually pretty tolerant of one or two, but with Explorer Willa on the loose, we felt it necessary to coexist with four snakes less!
ReplyDeleteFour! Wow. I'm impressed. We always have one or two around, either in the chicken house, the root cellar, or the barn. I like it--it's how it should be. And I like seeing them in the woods, too. But when they decide to become house pets, I draw the line!
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