Starting Over

This loss of phone service is a pain in the ass because it makes it difficult for me to stop a paragraph. Then they start to get unwieldy and I lose my train of thought. The light today, though, definitely marked a new phase, therefore a new paragraph. I was walking down the logging road thinking about cooking ribs at least one more time during the grilling season (there will be remaindered ribs after Labor Day) and I was enjoying the entire process of imaging who I might have over, what I might cook, and wether or not, between us, we might be able to buy a good bottle of wine, a Ridge Zin, or a Frank Family Farm Cab. Walking along, absorbed in myself, the lambent light (the third definition is "patches of bright light, radiant") and I came head to toe with my timber rattler. Yellow as a young girl's summer dress. I'm pretty sure it's a female, they present a specific body shape. We look at each other, I wish I could do that with my tongue, and she's not coiled so she can't strike. Me and the snake. We consider our various avenues of escape. I just start backing up, glancing behind, and she slithers off in the opposite direction. Most of the Cotton-Mouth water moccasins, the older ones, come at you with vengeance. Rattlesnakes just want to go eat mice.