So it appears that the animals one finds in the country like to make their presence known.
I discovered this two nights ago by nearly squashing a green tree frog in the screen door. Thankfully it was only ‘nearly’ because the first time I went to shut the door, its tiny body wedged in the door track prevented me from doing so, and then it weed on me. Yes, I’ve been weed on by a frog.
They (frogs) also seem to be fond of our deck, and basically anywhere I go to put my feet.
The other night, one decided to introduce itself by croaking in the drain pipe, and because I’m a city girl, with Scream movie familiarity, I was convinced it was a murderer trying to entice me outside (by making that noise), so he could chop my head off with an axe. Thankfully Fiancé was home, is from the country, and prevented me from contacting the police, whom I’m sure would have appreciated being called out to attend to a tree frog.
Other animals in the country that enjoy saying hello include ants the size of houses. Sans exaggeration, they actually look like walking bees. One day Molly (dog) is going to get bitten by one, and she’ll beg me to drive her to the emergency ward, given that a bite from a normal-sized ant requires a packet of frozen peas on her paw for an hour; looks of sympathy, and a number of Schmakos. I dare say that a great number of veterinary bills could be avoided with public knowledge that Schmakos cure most dog injuries.
The best country living experiences so far include being given a free roasted chook, and being introduced to EVERYONE at my local convenience store, because I’m new. This was just so beautiful, and I’m eating through all the food in our home to justify daily visits. I’ve also joined the local netball team, to burn off such eating, and to make friends. I will let you know how both work out.
Country living is just gorgeous. The people are good; the air is clear, and my backyard is phenomenal.
We even have a veggie patch! I helped in its creation by trying on gardening gloves; doing a lot of prancing, and, fetching glasses of water.
Molly, after walking approximately 100 metres of our 10 acre backyard. It’s exhausting being her.
To read Rebecca’s first column, click here.
