An ant bit me yesterday but it’s hurting way worse today. Just like the sting of a barbed comment from my mother about how I’m getting a bit fat, it won’t let me forget the savage stabbing prick of the unexpected jab from a seemingly innocent assassin.
We have a few bitey things around here on the mountain. It’s very rural. In fact, something bit me on the back the other day when I was weeding and a short time afterwards I felt severely nauseated for a few hours. I had to lie down and everything.
No matter.
It was probs just a funnel web spider.
No biggey.
We mountain women are tough.
There’s a Facebook community up here and all they ever post is pictures of humungous snakes which have unceremoniously settled in for a nap on the essential oil collection in the lavatory and they’re all like, “Do you think I should leave this exquisite creature here on my bathroom cabinet or have him relocated? He’s so pretty. Lol.”
Meanwhile, I’m thinking, “Take to the evil, slithery asshole with a fudging pickaxe!” but all the replies on Facebook say, “It’s a harmless tree snake, leave it alone and let it digest the poultry” or “How gorgeous is that cute little man? Let him go when he’s ready to move on, he will. How lucky we are to have these gorgeous creatures living amongst us.”
The snake in question, is usually identified as a King Brown or a Red Bellied Black by some self-appointed expert but I suppose some people find venomous, slimy, satanic worms to be appealing.
It’s not that I’m not an animal lover. I currently own thirteen hungry animals which I dote on and which frankly, do nothing to compensate me for my troubles. The only restitution I get is a few measly eggs and a bit of dribbling snuggling.
Scotto and I have become a bit more environmentally friendly though. I now shop at Aldi which means I recycle my plastic shopping bags. We have our own eggs from the chickens that poop which goes into the mulch for our home-grown herbs and beans and strawberries and tomatoes. Our shower and sink water provides H20 for the grass which feeds the chickens and we collect all our water in rainwater tanks.
Our chickens tuck into the dog poop with relish and our dogs lap up the chicken poop like it's caviar and truffles. It’s all recyclable here.
We heard a sound coming from our garden the other night and Scotto and I thought that either the pool filter was going mental, a UFO was landing in the street or there was a major glitch in the matrix and a wormhole had just opened up in our backyard leading to another dimension inhabited by noisy, heavy metal guitar playing people.
It was cicadas.
Or frogs. We still aren’t sure.
I stood on the back porch in my pyjamas, yelling at Scotto as he was hurtling and stumbling around the yard, panicked, in the dark, attempting to discover the cause of the hideous and frightening noise.
I still can’t believe the source of the cacophony was something from nature.
I still have a bit to learn about living in the country I suppose.
Any stories about FB communities?
We heard a sound coming from our garden the other night and Scotto and I thought that either the pool filter was going mental, a UFO was landing in the street or there was a major glitch in the matrix and a wormhole had just opened up in our backyard leading to another dimension inhabited by noisy, heavy metal guitar playing people.
It was cicadas.
Or frogs. We still aren’t sure.
I stood on the back porch in my pyjamas, yelling at Scotto as he was hurtling and stumbling around the yard, panicked, in the dark, attempting to discover the cause of the hideous and frightening noise.
I still can’t believe the source of the cacophony was something from nature.
I still have a bit to learn about living in the country I suppose.
Any stories about FB communities?
