A few weeks back Kaden was asking Patrick about rattlesnakes. Mainly, he wanted to know the probability of running into a rattlesnake at our house. For some reason it never occurred to me that this could be an issue. I mean, we're in the mountains, but not the mountains mountains. We're in the 'burbs for goodness sakes!
But somehow Patrick ended up advising me to really watch my step when I go on my walks at McIntosh Lake (my favorite spot to go on walks). About half of the trail is paved, but the other half is dirt and goes through what I have affectionately dubbed "Prairie Dog Manor".
So the next time I went on my walk, I was extremely careful and used great caution through the unpaved, tall wild grass portion of the trail. It should be noted that I HATE snakes. Loathe them. Deathly afraid. Gross. Patrick had a pet snake when we got together. Had. I would not sleep at his house with it and it sure as hell wasn't moving into mine.
So I get back to the civilized portion of the walk and I ease up. I start to enjoy the scenery of green grass and beautiful shimmer off of the lake. A woman jogs by with her dog and I smile at her. The next thing I know, she's on the grass.
She was an older woman, probably in her 50's. She was trying to scoot over on the sidewalk and fell off. I helped her up and made sure she was ok. She was, so I turned and started to walk forward again. Out of nowhere, right in front of the stroller darts a (what I deem to be) enormous garter snake.
I screamed. I jumped. I caused a scene. I almost ended up in the grass myself.
I hate snakes.
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