Saturdays are always interesting around here. Our people do not go off to those job things where they make money to buy dog food and pay for vet bills and days at the doggie cleaners. So it’s a good bet they will get into something.
Like most Saturdays, today started with a late breakfast. Then came out the list of chores. At the top of the list was a trip to town. Wes and Cheryl returned with three bales of straw and, most importantly, a bag of dog food. We know Cheryl’s car will fit two golden retrievers and a Maltese. But who knew it would fit three bales of straw and a bag of dog food?
“Are we getting a horse?” Lexie asked when she saw the straw. “I’ve always wanted a horse.” Well, off course we weren’t getting a horse. Turns out the straw was for tomato and pepper plants. “I don’t think Papaw Bustle does it that way,” I told Wes as he cut out, with a chainsaw, holes in the bales, filled them with dirt and plopped in those vegetable plants. “We’re trying something new this year,” he said, promising these will be the best tomatoes we’ve ever bitten into.
As Wes hacked up the straw, Cheryl was preparing to do some planting of her own. She had gotten some real pretty, colorful flowers to set out in the front yard. She learned long ago pretty flowers don’t last long in the back yard. I walked with her to the shed to retrieve the wheelbarrow, some dirt and some pots.
As she approached the shed she did her usual snake clap and banged on the door. She slid it open. Looked to her right. Looked up. Looked center. Checked out the floor. Looked left. Started for the wheelbarrow. “WES! I FOUND THE SNAKE!” she screamed. “Could you say that a little louder? I don’t think Gram and Gramps in Claremont heard you.” I said. The dutiful husband that he is, Wes immediately dropped what he was doing and ran to the rescue, broom – not hoe - in hand.
Being the overprotective dog mom that she is, the first thing Cheryl did was usher us to the sunroom where she bolted the door. Lexie and I listened intently, ears pressed against a sunroom window, to keep up with what was going on.
There was some debate about whether to let the snake live. “It will keep the rodents away,” Wes said. “So do Baxter and Lexie,” Cheryl argued. This went on for a while until we saw Cheryl take up her position on top of a stump and Wes go into the shed, clutching the broom –not the hoe. For a while, all was quiet. Then Cheryl started screaming like a little girl. Wes had tipped the wheelbarrow over thinking the snake would just mosey his way out of the shed and head for the fence. The snake had something else in mind. He wanted to head toward the back of the shed. The snake made a few lunges at Wes, but being the snake wrangler that he is, Wes, and that broom – not the hoe - talked the snake into heading for daylight and exiting the yard, never to be seen again for the rest of the day.
“What a brave man he is,” Lexie said. “Did you see those moves? The way he took control and manhandled that snake - he’s my hero.”
“Well, he did break the broom in the process,” I pointed out. “Cheryl’s not going to be happy about a broken broom.”
Turns out Cheryl was impressed enough with Wes’ kung fu moves on that snake that she let the broom thing slide.
They continued their chores, all along talking about how great Wes is for rescuing us from that big, bad, black snake that’s not even poisonous.
If you ask me, I think it was Cheryl’s screaming that ran that snake off, not the new man of the house’s brawniness. As for the shed, it now reeks of mothballs.
Like most Saturdays, today started with a late breakfast. Then came out the list of chores. At the top of the list was a trip to town. Wes and Cheryl returned with three bales of straw and, most importantly, a bag of dog food. We know Cheryl’s car will fit two golden retrievers and a Maltese. But who knew it would fit three bales of straw and a bag of dog food?
“Are we getting a horse?” Lexie asked when she saw the straw. “I’ve always wanted a horse.” Well, off course we weren’t getting a horse. Turns out the straw was for tomato and pepper plants. “I don’t think Papaw Bustle does it that way,” I told Wes as he cut out, with a chainsaw, holes in the bales, filled them with dirt and plopped in those vegetable plants. “We’re trying something new this year,” he said, promising these will be the best tomatoes we’ve ever bitten into.
As Wes hacked up the straw, Cheryl was preparing to do some planting of her own. She had gotten some real pretty, colorful flowers to set out in the front yard. She learned long ago pretty flowers don’t last long in the back yard. I walked with her to the shed to retrieve the wheelbarrow, some dirt and some pots.
As she approached the shed she did her usual snake clap and banged on the door. She slid it open. Looked to her right. Looked up. Looked center. Checked out the floor. Looked left. Started for the wheelbarrow. “WES! I FOUND THE SNAKE!” she screamed. “Could you say that a little louder? I don’t think Gram and Gramps in Claremont heard you.” I said. The dutiful husband that he is, Wes immediately dropped what he was doing and ran to the rescue, broom – not hoe - in hand.
Being the overprotective dog mom that she is, the first thing Cheryl did was usher us to the sunroom where she bolted the door. Lexie and I listened intently, ears pressed against a sunroom window, to keep up with what was going on.
There was some debate about whether to let the snake live. “It will keep the rodents away,” Wes said. “So do Baxter and Lexie,” Cheryl argued. This went on for a while until we saw Cheryl take up her position on top of a stump and Wes go into the shed, clutching the broom –not the hoe. For a while, all was quiet. Then Cheryl started screaming like a little girl. Wes had tipped the wheelbarrow over thinking the snake would just mosey his way out of the shed and head for the fence. The snake had something else in mind. He wanted to head toward the back of the shed. The snake made a few lunges at Wes, but being the snake wrangler that he is, Wes, and that broom – not the hoe - talked the snake into heading for daylight and exiting the yard, never to be seen again for the rest of the day.
“What a brave man he is,” Lexie said. “Did you see those moves? The way he took control and manhandled that snake - he’s my hero.”
“Well, he did break the broom in the process,” I pointed out. “Cheryl’s not going to be happy about a broken broom.”
Turns out Cheryl was impressed enough with Wes’ kung fu moves on that snake that she let the broom thing slide.
They continued their chores, all along talking about how great Wes is for rescuing us from that big, bad, black snake that’s not even poisonous.
If you ask me, I think it was Cheryl’s screaming that ran that snake off, not the new man of the house’s brawniness. As for the shed, it now reeks of mothballs.
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