"Hey, look out!" my older son was yelling. A baby garden snake was sunning itself in the driveway, near the side stairs we were descending. Not more than 10 inches in slender length, beautiful face and markings, the little fellow was startled out of its warm, relaxed daydream. Still new to the world, it was unsure whether to stay put or glide away. Finally deciding there were too many large creatures nearby, it moved smoothly towards the garden and disappeared.
Later in the week brought another reminder that the property is shared by many. I was seated in my car, preparing to back out of the driveway. My forward field of vision included a view of the garden shed. There was something dark on the ground ,at the shed foundation. Did I forget to toss some garbage? Suddenly it moved. Puzzled, I watched, and then remembered. For many years, the space under the shed had been home to a family of groundhogs. They had moved in when I planted my first vegetable garden. Now, years later, the garden is gone, but the ground hogs remain. "Jimmy", the first one was called. My son named all the animals as we saw them. There have been many since then, but always "Jimmy". On this occasion, two little Jimmys waddled out from under the shed, piered carefully around and proceeded across the back lawn.
The final encounter of the week wasn't unusual, just a another reminder of all who live with me. Cleaning the kitchen counter, I glanced out of the back window. The view was lovely. Heavy rain of late had encouraged tremendous growth in our woods. Now the lush emerald wall of vines, trees and bushes created an exquisite border to the edge of the lawn. A rich, rusty brown patch among the green moved slightly. The leaves danced and swayed to the rhythm of a young white tailed deer enjoying his lunch. The buck wasn't large, but he wore a small crown of antlers that declared his sex. Deer had been walking the trampled path along the brook for more years than I had lived in Burlington. Early each day, they would move singlely or in groups from east in Cummings Park, to the west, through my property. At the end of the day, the trek was reversed. Bucks, Does and Fawns all searching for food. Sometimes, they would run across the lawn, chew on bushes, then scamper down the street.
Revisiting the past week's encounters reminded me that, athough I call my home " my little corner of the planet", it isn't really mine alone. In peaceful respect, it is lived on and in, worked and enjoyed by more life than I could ever count. It is truly a precious Eden.
