By my reckoning, in Australia, when you see a snake, it’s never good.
Yesterday, on the way to Fargo, where MOD grew up, we stopped at Fort Ransom.
The Fort without a Fort.
Thought we would go for a short hike.
And there my friends, was where a snake decided to slither past me on the track.
I jumped three foot into the air, grabbed MODs elbow so hard I had no breath to speak, and tried desperately to point.
In turn MOD put his arms in front of me to protect me from what he assumed was a wild animal.
Seeing the huge (13 inch) snake, he was able to tell me it was a garter snake, between snorts of laughter.
Apparently of the variety that in his younger days, he and his brothers might pick up and chase their mates with. For the fun of it.
It was a SNAKE!
It took me some moments to have the ability to mobilise and when I did, I had two hands wrapped so hard around MODs arm, that between his laughing and the extra 10kgs I am sure I have put on, he proceeded to slide down the path.
He tells me he actually slid gracefully down the path on the autumn leaves as if on the wings of an angel.
Whatever MOD.
It wasn’t a pretty sight.
We found the Fort Ransom Historic Site later.
In Fargo, we had the pleasure of staying with MOD’s stepmother Sylvia and had a lovely meal with her and MOD’s stepsister Kelly.
Next morning we headed to Sylvia’s friend Ruth’s house to take her for breakfast at their favourite cafe. Turns out Ruth took us out for breakfast. Even though Sylvia planned to do that, even though Ruth is legally blind, the bill was placed on the table and Ruth moved quicker than any of us to snatch that baby up and sit on it! Gotta love, a fast, sharp, 93 year old.
Sylvia and Ruth are both retired teachers and a wealth of stories and knowledge. We had a lovely breakfast, then headed back to Ruth’s to look at her doll collection. Wowsa! Any girly girl, or any girl, would love to have that collection. Each doll was beautifully dressed with the prettiest little faces. Reminds me of some of the dolls I had growing up. They are stored in the basement. To an Aussie that sounds like a place where you would store stuff in boxes and every so often wander down, fossick through, to get to what you need. A mouldy, dark place. In the good old US of A, the basement is like a mini house. Completely set up with a number of bedrooms, bathroom and living areas. Quite extraordinary. MOD says in the old days, basements were used to hide from tornado’s, the south west corner, and a must have for anyone in the states. Now it’s really about extra living space or to get the house foundation well below the frost line. That way there is a moderately warm in the winter and moderately cool in the summer place to go if needed. As a kid, I would have loved to live in one. Heck, as an adult, I could go down there and you wouldn’t see me for days. Totally self sufficient. Wouldn’t need a kitchen, just a few bags of lollies and my Aldi coffee machine, milk frother and 250 cartoons of soy milk.
After many hugs (we are all huggers) we left Ruth to drive out to MOD’s dad’s gravesite to say hello and pay our respects. And to introduce me. As those who know me know, I am a believer in life after death. I had a little chat, I think he is ok with me, and off we headed.
Funny thing is, it’s hard to get soy milk in your coffee here…..I guess they send it all to the Southern Hemisphere. To us yuppies down there.
The afternoon finished with a visit to Kelly’s house to meet her dawg (Charlie) and then a beautiful meal in town.
All round another good day.
MaureenBetty 