I'll begin by pointing out that the stump still smolders, leaving me in awe at the size of the root ball built by that tree over the years. Maybe tonight it will finish. Maybe its time has not yet come and I will have to burn again next weekend. There was much less rain this week and so the grass did not grow very much, keeping me from having to mow. The lack of rain made it easy for the kids to walk to school, though, and walk home, which they did several days. The school rhythm is on. We wake, scarf down breakfast, put on our uniforms (well, they do), and head off to school. Marcela would gather up to her desk as soon as they were off and begin her own work. She has two graduate classes to finish, and the reading has begun. For my part, I'm still in denial. Monday at 8:00 a.m., I will present myself to a class of students and get the semester underway, and today, in between painting the fascia and repotting some plants, I glanced at the syllabus and the introduction notes. All is in order.
And now the story to which the title refers: Two years ago I decided to dig into my compost pile for the very first time. It seemed dry and I feared I had put too much brown and not enough green. Two shovel drives into the pile and I was suddenly looking at the writhing half of a snake that I'd just cut in two with my spade. I'm easily bothered by things like that so I threw the shovel-full of dirt back on the pile and retreated and did not look at it for two years. When I finally moved it a few weeks ago, I found no more snakes. Next to the original compost we started another compost, for kitchen waste alone. Today I started digging into this pile to gather soil for our planters. Three shovel drives into the pile and I see another snake, trying to get out. I step back and as it slithers along the fence I note that it is the strangest looking snake I have ever seen. It took me a second and then I realized that it was the other half of the snake I had severed two years before. Its chopped off tail was squared off like his head, which was what made him look so strange. But there he was, alive as the day, having learned another easier lesson about the safety of compost piles as homes.
I'm going to admit to some relief. While I'm no fan of snakes, I'm glad to know I did not unnecessarily kill, and only unnecessarily handi-capped the poor thing. I said nothing to Maxim, Jasmine, or Noah. They would have been grossed out. And, anyway, they were busy covering my porch in talcum powder paste.
