The jet stream streaked across the brilliant Africa-blue sky. I could see it out the window of the make-shift gym as I exercised at the Kitale Club in town today. I looked twice – no, three times at the streak in the air . . . just to make sure it was really there.
It is unusual to see a jet stream up so high and at this time of day here. Jets rarely fly over this part of Kenya and if they do, it is normally in the early morning or late evening hours. Not in the mid-afternoon – like today. But it was there, nonetheless. For a moment, at least – until quickly covered up by the numerous clouds coming in for their daily routine.
It’s the rainy season in Kenya right now. Rains greet us nearly every afternoon. They make everything green. They make the flowers bloom. They make the vegetables grow hardy in the garden.
Even the pumpkins, too.
It’s just that not all of the pumpkins are busily growing in gardens right now. Actually we have a few growing in the sky as well. Truly. I’ll snap a picture for you just to prove it. The pumpkins that grow there are the ones that I planted about four years ago with my son, Jordan, as an activity to learn about how things grow. We were living in a different house at that time but it just so happens that the house we lived in buts right up to the one that we live in now.
It is normal in Kenya for property lines to be divided by tall hedges growing over a fence. So in the space of the past four years, the original pumpkin seed that Jordan and I planted has since multiplied and migrated from its beginning location in the garden and over some toward our fence. In fact, I’m not sure how – but it has actually climbed up and over the fence and hedges . . . and now grows pumpkins dangling in mid-air.
We went outside to look at it as a family the other day just because it was such an unusual sight to see. We counted several blooms for future pumpkins as well as several pumpkins beginning already. Brian suggested that when they become too large for the fence and hedge to support them, we could somehow construct a base into the air upon which the growing pumpkins could rest and form.
It is unusual to see a jet stream up so high and at this time of day here. Jets rarely fly over this part of Kenya and if they do, it is normally in the early morning or late evening hours. Not in the mid-afternoon – like today. But it was there, nonetheless. For a moment, at least – until quickly covered up by the numerous clouds coming in for their daily routine.
It’s the rainy season in Kenya right now. Rains greet us nearly every afternoon. They make everything green. They make the flowers bloom. They make the vegetables grow hardy in the garden.
Even the pumpkins, too.
It’s just that not all of the pumpkins are busily growing in gardens right now. Actually we have a few growing in the sky as well. Truly. I’ll snap a picture for you just to prove it. The pumpkins that grow there are the ones that I planted about four years ago with my son, Jordan, as an activity to learn about how things grow. We were living in a different house at that time but it just so happens that the house we lived in buts right up to the one that we live in now.
It is normal in Kenya for property lines to be divided by tall hedges growing over a fence. So in the space of the past four years, the original pumpkin seed that Jordan and I planted has since multiplied and migrated from its beginning location in the garden and over some toward our fence. In fact, I’m not sure how – but it has actually climbed up and over the fence and hedges . . . and now grows pumpkins dangling in mid-air.
We went outside to look at it as a family the other day just because it was such an unusual sight to see. We counted several blooms for future pumpkins as well as several pumpkins beginning already. Brian suggested that when they become too large for the fence and hedge to support them, we could somehow construct a base into the air upon which the growing pumpkins could rest and form.
I quickly nodded in affirmation of his suggestion simply because I didn’t have anything better to offer myself. I don’t know about you but I’m not used to seeing pumpkins dangling in mid-air or, for that matter, trying to figure out what to do with them when I do. Especially ones growing up and over a hedge. Why are they there anyhow? Perhaps these pumpkins knew their rightful owners and have simply traveled back to where they belong. Who knows. All I do know is that we have pumpkins – and they, as if dusted with some sort of fairy powder – dangle up where pumpkins aren’t normally hung.
Our hedge makes for an interesting sort of life, to be quite honest. It is actually rather full of stories and tales. Unfortunately, for us at least, one of them involves the fact that our neighbors could find no other place on their property to put their burn pile. The same burn pile of trash, debris and rotting food has been in the same stinky location for probably three decades or more. Imagine that – no, never mind, the image might be too grotesque. It’s just on the other side of the hedge. Oh, burn day is a hoot. I go through our entire house closing up all of the windows and doors, as you might imagine. The smell reeks of all sorts of things that OSHA would never approve.
Yet, even so, the dump doesn’t get burned quite nearly as often as it ought. Therefore, this collection of trash, thereby, brings another collection to our hedge. Yes, you guessed it – there is quite a mess of mice who live there as well. And rats. Just beneath our dangling pumpkins in the air, ugly mice skitter here and there.
Life in our hedge somehow seems to be taking the shape of a fairy tale similar to the one about the beautiful young orphan girl with blonde hair. Yet, as if the lack of an evil step-mother and step-sisters were to prove to be too much of a loss for this hedge’s chronicle . . . another evil presence has been invited into the tale. It is an evil presence whom I detest, to be honest. Okay, so “detest” is far too soft of a word. Try – abhor. Loathe. Scorn. Despise.
Yes, it’s a snake.
Our hedge makes for an interesting sort of life, to be quite honest. It is actually rather full of stories and tales. Unfortunately, for us at least, one of them involves the fact that our neighbors could find no other place on their property to put their burn pile. The same burn pile of trash, debris and rotting food has been in the same stinky location for probably three decades or more. Imagine that – no, never mind, the image might be too grotesque. It’s just on the other side of the hedge. Oh, burn day is a hoot. I go through our entire house closing up all of the windows and doors, as you might imagine. The smell reeks of all sorts of things that OSHA would never approve.
Yet, even so, the dump doesn’t get burned quite nearly as often as it ought. Therefore, this collection of trash, thereby, brings another collection to our hedge. Yes, you guessed it – there is quite a mess of mice who live there as well. And rats. Just beneath our dangling pumpkins in the air, ugly mice skitter here and there.
Life in our hedge somehow seems to be taking the shape of a fairy tale similar to the one about the beautiful young orphan girl with blonde hair. Yet, as if the lack of an evil step-mother and step-sisters were to prove to be too much of a loss for this hedge’s chronicle . . . another evil presence has been invited into the tale. It is an evil presence whom I detest, to be honest. Okay, so “detest” is far too soft of a word. Try – abhor. Loathe. Scorn. Despise.
Yes, it’s a snake.
This evil presence is none other than an authentic African spitting cobra, nonetheless. And she’s a mama, too. This mama spitting cobra has taken up residence in the same hedge where my pumpkins grow up in the air. Apparently, she likes the mice that gather underneath in the trash there.
It seems that this snake has actually settled in for quite some time already ~ perhaps even the entire three years we’ve lived in this house. She has dug an elaborate nesting hole and as far as we know, only comes out on occasion. Our orange cat called Lance – named after Lance Armstrong, but whom I have also nicknamed “Hunter” (for obvious reasons, of course) tried to take it down once.
It seems that this snake has actually settled in for quite some time already ~ perhaps even the entire three years we’ve lived in this house. She has dug an elaborate nesting hole and as far as we know, only comes out on occasion. Our orange cat called Lance – named after Lance Armstrong, but whom I have also nicknamed “Hunter” (for obvious reasons, of course) tried to take it down once.
