‎"...a little 'trouty', but quite good" ~ Eve Kendall, North By Northwest

Wednesday, October 8, 2008

tonight: nightmares of being eaten by a snake

I thought of you all today. I thought of you because if it weren't for you I wouldn't have even dreamed of putting myself in the middle of a bunch of poison ivy and... hey, what's that sound? That rustling sound? Gah! Snakes!

One year to the day after posting this, I went back for more cranberries in the feral bog across the street. It wasn't on purpose, and I only noticed the date now when I went digging around for the link. But yesterday before dinner I realized I had a few extra minutes so I went crashing through the brambles and into the bog to poach some cranberries.

When I went last year, solely for the purpose of reporting my findings to you lovely people, I only found a few (a beach pail full, according to my report). This year, I was gone for ten minutes and picked at least that much. And then the gluttony kicked in and I went back this morning.

Mornings in the bog are quite different than evenings. Mostly because I've never seen snakes in the evenings. I heard the telltale rustle a couple times and then finally did see a snake chasing a vole. I wasn't sure if I should rustle more loudly, in order to define myself as a possible predator, or be as quiet as, er, maybe not as quiet as a mouse. I rustled loudly. And I picked a lot of cranberries.

So if you are on my Christmas list, you are getting cranberry sauce this year. And before you get all harumphy and "what? just a jar of cranberry sauce?!?" please bear in mind that there were snakes and poison ivy and bees and maybe some rabid coyotes involved, which is almost like the mall. I braved them all for you and the sauce (assuming I remember to make it).

I wanted to take the kids cranberry picking with me because please, how perfectly perfect is that? Autumn on Cape Cod, picking cranberries? This is the stuff of childhood memories - except childhood memories are usually more like "remember the time we threw Studley's shoes out the car window on Route 6 and you LOST YOUR MIND?" And so if I did go to all the trouble of cutting back all the brambles so there was a safe path and if I did wrap the kids from head to toe with anti-poison-ivy garb, they would still remember it as the time I dragged them across the street and threatened to let the snakes eat them if they didn't pick fast enough.

Which is not a terrible idea. Anyone else have childhood memories that went terribly wrong? We're looking for some activities for the long weekend.

4 comments:

Kristin said...

Oh so many. There was the time we climbed to the top of a freaking GLACIER in Alaska, which, yes, was terribly beautiful, but I was 10 years old and so tired I was getting punchy. I remember almost falling down into a deep crevice, from which I would not have returned, and laughing with more than a touch of hysteria.

There was also the time we went on a hike to a place called Lost Lake. Which turned out to live up to its name, because we hiked for HOURS and never found the damn thing.

Oh! And there was the time my dad ordered a massive pile of landscaping rock to be delivered while my brother and I were home on Spring Break from college. Because nothing is more fun that moving 2 tons of rock on Spring Break. Party on!

So many wonderful memories . . .

james said...

hey! we should try to all get together this weekend...

Susan said...

Kristen - I like the landscaping rock idea. My kids could probably build us something on their day off Monday. I remember when we got a big pile of manure delivered to my childhood home. I recall my horror upon discovering that "compost" was a euphemism (in this case) for "sheep manure."

James - sure! Want to come shovel "compost?"

JAbel said...

My older brother was the one to avoid.I once went winter X-Country camping with his gang and they thought it would be no problem to ski from Crane Flat to Tuolumne Meadows about 35 miles in one day.We made it 17 miles and I spent the first night around 8,000 feet with my sides hurting breathing icy air into my lungs.Then it snowed for two days.I do recall my father putting us to work at Dulles Airport when we were little reaching down into the cooling/heating vents that lined the walls to retrieve a lot of loose change dropped in there by air passengers.We wern't flying but being touristy in D.C. and for some reason my parents thought going to the then fairly new airport was an attraction.I still imagine some exec telling his wife about this gang of Northern Hillbillies the boys all dressed alike going through the terminal vents retrieving loose change for their dinner.I think I've been to Lost Lake.Man I should use that Dulles story on my blog.