Saturday, June 15, 2013

The snake at the pump house, and here

My dad, sister, and Linda are coming over tomorrow for lunch. I am marinating lamb to grill for gyros. As much fun as it is to plan a menu, I equally enjoy prepping the house and yard for friends and family: sunshine hours of grass mowing, trimming back rhododendrons, pruning branches of awning trees, sweeping off patios and walkways, cleaning the windows, planting mint in a planter, pulling out cushions for patio chairs.

Shane had his share of things to do. He was down at the pump house doing something and he called out to me when he saw me, "There was a snake right next to my head."

He hates snakes and big spiders. I'm not very fond of them either.

"Where is it?" I asked and made my way down to him. "Was it a black snake?"

"Yes, but not as big as I've seen them."

We went into the pump house, but the snake had moved on.

"If this had happened at the other house, I wouldn't have gone back in until I had something to kill it," he laughed. And then, "This place has changed me."

His words may have been matter-of-fact, but the implications were not lost on me. I smiled and thought of all of us, and the changes, and to myself I know: it was supposed to, this place--it was supposed to change us.

My next project is redoing the laundry room. I've already started painting the doors and trim ... white. And while we wait on tripping over to the second-hand cabinet store, I'm going to try my hand at sanding down the powder room vanity and staining it something rich and nutty.

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