This Morning: Our day started off early, but wonderful. Coffee and pajamas. Stories before breakfast. A bit of running around outside to play in the wet and the leaves. Then a visit from friends and our two little boys trading words like old pros.
This Afternoon: I heard an odd bang come from the basement and looked down the stairs (there is no door) to see that my dear mouser Sappho had a snake cornered right at the foot of the stairs. I. Freaked. Out. I called Steve. I called my Dad. I called my Mom. I took pictures, which made their way to my brother for identification. The one thing I didn't do? Actually go downstairs and throw some sort of box over the thing to keep in contained. So, despite a visit from the very friendly exterminator and several hours spent thinking and talking and worrying about nothing but snakes, there is still a fox snake skulking around in my basement. Steve is in right now reading bedtime stories to Silas ("What did we see today, Silas?" "Hissssss!") and as soon as he falls asleep, Steve and I need to figure out how to proceed. Do we set traps? Do we just hope he makes his way back outside via whatever venue it is by which he entered? I know that snakes can, indeed, climb stairs so I have jammed towels in all the cracks around the baby gate in an attempt to thwart any attempts to join us upstairs. I know it's not foolproof, but I figure I can make it as difficult as I can for him. It is clear that I am a nature-girl-in-progress. I try to have love and respect for all of Mother Nature's creatures, but those that slither take a little (or a lot) more effort for me to even like, let alone love. Ick.