Looking out my backdoor - As the worm turns

Paradise. Yes, I live in a garden of Paradise. I suppose there is a snake in every garden. My snake is gray. Pure deep gray with diamond shaped markings like fish scales. I’m told he is harmless. Every woman since Eve has heard those words whispered in her ears.

I can live with my gray snake. What can I do? He slithers whither he wills. My hope is that he eats rats.

Week before last, a rat infested my bodega. Until the evidence appears, One doesn’t know a rodent has set up housekeeping in one’s space. Rat is a sloppy housekeeper. He didn’t properly apply for housing, didn’t pay rent, and ignored my demands that he vacate the premises.

It took Leo and me four days of concerted effort to get him gone, put new screens on the windows, which had become the point of entry, thoroughly clean the bodega, all the storage shelves and everything in storage. Good riddance, Rat.

This morning while weeding, we discovered that one-third of my Amaryllis crop (I have at least 400 plants) have been invaded by a particular fly that chooses bulbs in which to lay her eggs. One does not discover the damage at the beginning point, however. Who pays attention to varieties of flies? What we found were hundreds of maggoty larvae in each sopping, mushy, rotten bulb. Off with their heads, so to speak. An entire section of garden laid bare.

I love my Amaryllis. They bloom from the first of January through May. It doesn’t get much better than that, a constant color parade.

A quick trip to David’s Centro Vivero and $500.00 (pesos) of poison later, maybe we can save the rest of the bulbs.

My garden is full of metaphorical snakes, in addition to my all too real gray serpent.

The rabbits, they look like cottontails to me, which used to keep to the back yard, now venture onto my front patio. There is one particular cheeky, chippy squirrel which is the bane of my life. She ventures up to my screen door and thumbs her nose. She’s naught but a rat with long hair.

I call this the Year of the Lizard. Never have I seen so many and of such variety. Iguanas, too, a lot of them.

Ants of every variety. Some eat roots. Some eat leaves. Some bite humans with fire. Some, Leo tells me, are harmless. Their large black bodies form a parade across the patio from time to time. Leo says they are moving from place to place, bundles on their back. How does Leo know?

Except for my large and gray snake, none of these creatures eat one another. All are vegan.

Still, I live in my garden of Paradise. I share my bounty of beauty, flowers, leaves and roots, each according to his appetite, with the creatures around me. I have no choice.

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Sondra Ashton grew up in Harlem but spent most of her adult life out of state. She returned to see the Hi-Line with a perspective of delight. After several years back in Harlem, Ashton is seeking new experiences in Etzatlan, Mexico. Once a Montanan, always. Read Ashton’s essays and other work at montanatumbleweed.blogspot.com. Email [email protected].