I was mowing yesterday. Everything was going fine and then…. A snake a few feet away started moving! A snake!!! I screamed. I don’t like snakes. It’s not like I was even on a riding mower with some height separating me and the snake. It was a push mower, me, ground, grass, and snake. I screamed.
It took off at a pretty good speed, and I just stood there yelling at it – “Get out of the yard.” “And stay out!” The grass was moving around it and it’s black head was above the grass, navigating through the strands like a swimmer. If you don’t mind snakes, kudos to you. To me, if it’s a snake, it’s bad. I don’t care if it is poisonous or not.
The rest of the mowing time consisted of jumping at several sticks and screaming at a very frightening piece of bark that jumped out at me and of course looked very snake like. All right, it didn’t look snake like, but all I saw the movement out of the corner of my eye and that was enough. I screamed again.
I like being outside, I enjoy being out in the country. But, I don’t think I’m quite a country girl.