We’ve been clearing land. We could clear land until the day we die and we’ll never clear it all. It’s hard work, but it feels productive at the end of the day when you step back and see the progress.
The problem is, there is a lot to contend with as we bushwhack our way through the brambles, briars, vines and spindly trees. The first problem is the thorns. They rip up our arms and legs. I look like I was in a fight with a cat – and the cat won. The second problem is poison ivy. As careful as I am, if I even look at the stuff, it sends out feelers and attacks me. The third problem is ticks. They crawl on the grass, they fall out of the trees, and they carry Lyme Disease. The fourth problem is “things.” “Things” like a box turtle, a weird frog – and a SNAKE.
Chris was running the trimmer into the tall brambles, oblivious to my screaming, running, and flailing of arms. I climbed up the back of him like I was climbing a tree. I wrapped myself around his shoulders and my legs around his waist – because I wasn’t leaving my feet within striking distance of that SNAKE. He looked at me like I’d lost my mind.
I explained there was a SNAKE, a huge, long snake with BIG yellow stripes and it was looking right at me. And it looked hungry! I pointed out the direction it was headed.
“Where?” he asked, looking for a huge, long snake with big yellow stripes.
“Right there,” I insisted.
“It’s just a little garter snake,” he said, unimpressed, but I noticed he started pushing around in the brambles with a long handled rake after that.
I went to Home Depot and bought one of those Tyvek outfits. They’re cute. They’re a white, one-piece jump suit intended to be worn when you are painting. The problem is, they only come in extra large, so I lopped off the bottom of the legs and the extra long arms (that didn’t fix the problem that the crotch came to about my knees). I donned my new attire, tucked the pant legs inside of tall white socks, and figured this would solve problems one through four (above).
For the second time that day, Chris looked at me like I’d lost my mind, tried to hide his laughter and said I looked like I escaped from a mental institution.
I guess that’s what working on the farm will do to you.