Mom fainted at the sight of blood, so I ran screaming for my Uncle Mike, who happened to be near the buildings working on a piece of equipment. He stemmed the flow and we all agreed that fall could have been fatal. My sis still bears the tiny triangular scar near her temple.
She doesn’t remember the incident of falling through the screen, but Renée will never forget the snakes.
Snakes are one of the many critters on the farm. One summer we had a profusion of garters. They hatched underneath our concrete stoop. I wasn’t afraid of them, but stepping on one barefoot is mighty creepy, which happened on the run to the outhouse. My sis had nightmares. She’d wake up screaming, sit straight up in bed with her eyes wide open, petrified. She saw snakes all around her. It took a long time to calm her, and she dreamed those nightmares for months. I woke up and cried along with her because I felt so helpless through her night terrors.
Snakes slithered through the garden on a daily basis. We saw the occasional bull snake, but Dad taught us how harmless and good they are, so we watched in fascination at their defensive forked tongue and impressive coiled size. If one scurried across the road, we kept a respectable distance. Dogs went as close as they dared and raised a barking ruckus.
Do you mind snakes? What about frogs and toads?