So little happening these days so there is so little to post about.
Think I will tell you a story.
After my husband's retirement from the Navy, we moved to the countryside in Alabama on a 40 acre farm. Quite a different setting than what we were used to but I set about being a 'country' girl.
I wanted a flower bed so Elbert dug up a spot and edged it with cross-ties. ICYDK (That means In Case You Don't Know) cross-ties are the large wooden supports that the rails are attached to in making a railroad.
I'd planted some flowers and one day went out to check on the first blooms when a snake came slithering by and wiggled down into a hole in between two of those cross-ties.
Now, you gotta understand... I HATE snakes. I scared of them, have always been, don't like them around.
I was home alone, no one to ask to come take care of this snake for me so I went into the house and got my husband's revolver. I was nearly as skittish about guns as I was snakes so I walked toward that flower bed holding it out in front of me with both hands, like I thought the thing was going to bite me.
I got back to where I last saw the snake, didn't see him, figured he was still down in that hole so I aimed that revolver straight at that hole. I emptied that gun, bam, bam, bam, etc. the bullets flying right into that hole.
I headed back to put the gun away feeling pretty proud of myself. I either had a DEAD snake in that hole or...
I had a very DEAF one.