The Great Outdoors

In so many ways, I was never destined for the outdoors. My fair skin and appeal to mosquitoes are only the beginning -- direct sunlight hurts my eyes, I don't like being hot and I try to avoid dirt whenever possible. If there's not a pool within a five foot radius, I'd just rather be inside. (FYI: that puts you closer to the bar and reality TV, too.)

Which is why any urge I have to do yard work always surprises me. (Keep in mind I said "urge." It's rarely fulfilled -- hence my lawn looks the way it does. I'd like to blame the stolen lawnmower, but I had lost the battle against weeds and growth long before that.)

I think it's the Type A/OCD side of me that wants to work in the yard. I like things to be neat and ordered. My yard tends to be anything but. Some would call this laziness. I blame the aforementioned genetics/quirks.

But, lately, not even I can ignore how bad my yard has gotten. I dream about towering weeds, creeping vines and sink holes. So, for the past two days, I've ventured out. Gardening gloves on, clippers in hand, rake by my side, I decided to do yard work. 

I picked up branches. I pulled weeds. I piled debris on the curb to be picked up. It felt good. I felt like a real homeowner.

Then, as I was pulling some dead vines up, I saw it. A little baby garden snake slithered in front of me before disappearing back into the ground. Being a big girl now, I didn't scream. I didn't even jump back. I acknowledged that it was just a little garden snake -- to myself, over and over again. I kept working in the yard. I congratulated myself on being so mature and brave. About 20 minutes later, I packed up for the day and headed inside.

Sometime in the night though, everything changed. (It didn't help that I watched the "Fringe" episode about a genetically-engineered, part-snake monster, but bygones.) I thought way too much about small, slithery snakes. (And not just because of my love of alliteration.) Sure, that was just a baby garden snake, but where were its brothers and sisters? Or, worse yet, its mama? That snake had been much smaller than the creature I saw last year, but how much could a creature grow in 12 months?

It took 24 whole hours for me to lose my nerve.

I went back into the great outdoors today, but my new found anxiety made me wary of touching the ground or plants, and let's just say it's pretty hard to get much accomplished in the yard when you're only willing to poke at anything green with the end of your rake.

As soon as I figure out how to make money on this here blog (or any other venture for that matter), I'm hiring a landscape firm to deal with all the creepy crawlies, snakes and creatures around my house. Until then, the lawn is theirs.