VENOMOUS TWO HEADED TIGER SNAKE

My goodness, what a creature. Cursed by God to crawl on their bellies their whole life because of their part in Eden, snakes have long been associated with adjectives such as yuck and gross. Sometimes associated with chills up the spine, shrugs of eek, and total revulsion.

Now add another head, and add venom. Now you have a monster little though he/they may be. Tandemly working, I suppose one could expectorate venom while the other head could inflict the bite. I don't know if they're that smart, but they must be if they are anything like the one in the garden who got Eve and then Adam to taste the fruit from the Forbidden Tree. And, all by just a little lie, a little indiscretion, a little evil suggestion.

I've shared with long time readers most of my snake stories. I've spent most of my time with snakes in our Illinois home where I would encounter them while mowing. The last I remember was sleeping, coiled up and when I spotted him I threw my push mower over him. It was just my first reaction. Generally, if they weren't close to the house I didn't disturb or harm them. But none were dangerous either.

Had I come across the snake of duplicity pictured and I knew what I know about him, you can bet I would have thrown a mower over him or tried to kill him some way. Shovels worked for me best. Along with my riding mower. Though when I'd run over one, there was no telling where all the parts might land. Blood from one once spewed up from under the mowing deck onto my shirt. The rest of him was slung a long way from the Gravely. Irony. Grave(ly) for the snake.

I sincerely hope my good fortune holds about not seeing a rattlesnake out West. I don't even own a mower or a shovel anymore.

NOW THAT'S A TREE HUGGER

I understand the sentiment. Who does not enjoy a sunset? A waterfall? A clear lake?

In fact, if I were going to participate in any green movement or protest, it might just be the date palm trees that we have in Phoenix.

It seems that there's a neighborhood with lush black date palms. I don't imagine I have the nomenclature right, but if it is black palm dates, it sounds like Black Prom dates, so I didn't want to confuse. These palms line the streets and are very rare. Not just in AZ, but in the world. Their fruit is considered a delicacy and sold at only a few places.

But the city is tired of trimming them three times a year. They offered to pay people for cutting them down. (It was similar to our HOA who asked neighbors to remove their queen palms and replant with Mexican fan palms or some other more suitable for our climate. We were some of the few neighbors who took them up on their offer.) But queen palms are everywhere. Planted here because of their inexpensiveness. They thrive around pools, but not much anywhere else because of our soil. Too much or too little acid; I don't remember.

But if you have a world class palm and the city wants to cut it, well I'm somewhat up in arms about it. At least I raised my wrists off the keyboard in protest.

I think arborists should unite though. What would the endangered animals people do? Well, there are lots of cases where protected owls, frogs, lizards, and birds have been spared at considerable cost. A whole lot more than tree trimmers being put out a little.

I know times are tough and probably going to get tougher for awhile. But let some common sense rule and not make this unkindly cut.

HAZEL

All my Lincoln School friends of grade school days would ask me if Hazel was my mom. She was a fourth grade teacher who married a cousin of mine. Some of my friends called her Witch Hazel (imagine that), so I was somewhat embarrassed by that. No fourth grader wants his peers to think he's related to a witch.

We weren't close, but I know she was a sweetheart. Back in the day though, we thought a little differently about our teachers. When we would see them in any other setting, even Chili Suppers at school, it was a little disconcerting. I mean, they had a classroom didn't they? Why did they have to leave it and go out in the community to church and to shop?

Then there seemed to be a time when teachers were more human. Some were even kinda like a friend. There were/are still those who kept you at arm's length. Who were stilted. Who didn't teach students, but instead taught their subjects. There was even a category for them--text-driven.

I won't venture into what teachers seem to be today since I'm not longer a student or a teacher. Anyhow, this entry spawned by the picture of the hazel eyed girl, was to be about that: hazel eyes. (Long time readers know that I'm famous for rabbit trails and following or flowing with them.)

My sister-in-law used to have the brownest of brown eyes. The darkest browns without being black. Then she had cataract surgeries. Voila! Her eyes are now hazel. Actually a lighter hazel than the picture.

I had never heard of that happening before. It's not a temporary thing because it's been three years since the laser slice. That's the way it is, that's the way it goes, and that's what I was going to focus on today. But I didn't.