The season of preference is upon us. I really like summer but it does come with its own baggage.
Yesterday I was playing a Friday afternoon round of golf. The whole time we are scanning the sky trying to determine if the distant lightening and thunder is headed our way. I’m usually the first to call a game due to lightening. I’ve had too many close calls and heard too many horror stories about lightening to continue play under the threat.
The storm stayed at bay and we continued play and lived another day.
Gigi had instructed me to pick up some hay for the horses before I got home. So as I delivered the hay I saw Gigi dancing and yelling as she ran out of the stall, manure rake in hand.
“There’s a copperhead in Lady’s stall!” she yelled.
So I went back up to the house to get the 12 gauge shotgun to take care of business. Sure enough there was a nasty copperhead snake coiled up almost hidden in the corner of the stall.
Gigi gets all the horses out of their stalls so they can react to the loud blast.
I’m standing in Lady’s stall with a copperhead and a cocked shotgun waiting for the area to clear. The last thing I want to do is shoot the snake and blast through the wall and hit a horse or dog.
Lady decides she must have her supper NOW! So now I’m in the stall with Lady, Gigi, a copperhead and a cocked shotgun.
Finally the area clears and we take care of the snake.
As I head back to the house I notice tree small blisters on my forearm. Dang, poison ivy. I must have picked that up on the golf course searching for a ball.
As I sit down to fire up the computer I notice the slightest tickle on my arm. Yep, it was the first tick of the season.