Long Time - No Blog

It would appear that my once-weekly habit of blogging has fallen victim to a beautiful summer and to the regular grind of life. Since the last time I blogged; Tia and I were married, we've honeymooned across east and Midwest, I've seen my immediate and much of my non-immediate family, I've partnered with a tremendously talented writer in a publishing ventured aimed at closet writers who are inexperienced in the process of publication, I was inducted as an honorary member of the Southern Maine Maple Sugarmakers Association (a group I was contracted to build a website for), and my skin has turned 4 shades darker in the rich sunlight Maine is bathed in for a couple of months a year.

It is this time of year and in these latitudes when the Earth starts showing off its ability to produce and host abundant life. Tonight, on this especially murky day, it would seem that all the necessary elements of land life are available for whatever creature wishes to live. The air is warm and heavy with moisture; the sky is bright with a flood of moonlight - dispersed evenly through the misty atmosphere.

The snakes that live in the shed and haunt my dreams have grown fat and long with the smorgasbord of insects scurrying unsuccessfully from under the shed to the shelter of the grassy carpet. I'd like to say that the almost daily exposure to the serpents has dulled my sense of alarm at the sight of the beasts, but I still shriek like a little girl when I see that coil of scales staring at me with eyes and tongue, and my feet still curl up nervously under my desk as to not brush against any suspicious lengths of cable while the squirmy topic is in mind.

I remember like it was yesterday the day my brother and I came across a grisly scene in the woods behind our little farm on Vancouver Island. A place which is home to a vicious and capable snake known as a Red Racer; after its tell-tale red stripes that run lengthwise down its often-huge body, a body which is un-tormented by winter in the mild Pacific West and left to grow for years and years. On this particular venture into the woods, we saw a Red Racer enjoying a giant slug (another beneficiary of Vancouver Island's mild winters) it had slithered out onto a log over the creek to munch on. Neither of us had any substantial hesitation in approaching the scene to get a better look. We were of the age when walking through the creek in shoed-feet was done without a second thought. We were within just a few noisy feet of the reptile when it decided the slimy snack wasn’t worth the risk of finding itself in a haphazardly constructed terrarium for a few days, and proceeded to pull its unhinged jaws away from the mortally wounded mollusk which lay paralyzed and oozing its juice on the mossy log.

Although the details which immediate followed the snakes regurgitation of the slug have become hazy with the swell of enzymes responsible for compulsive fear, what is blazingly clear is the fact that my brother chased me the six year old for nearly a quarter mile out of the woods and home through the field yelling at the top of his 9 year old lungs “Red Racer! Red Racer!!! It’s right behind you!!”, forever voiding my appreciation for the species. I forgave the bastard years ago for the incident, and he delivered a mushy toast at our wedding which touched, if only in spirit, upon the incident back in 86’. Aside from gradual forgiveness, I got the last laugh a few years later when he nearly cried at the theater during the dreadfully lame movie Arachnophobia, which detailed in all ability of 1990’s Hollywood special effects the subject of his nightmares… and I’m much taller than him!