I went out quite early this morning after seeing remains of peaches on the fence to see how my trees were doing, and three black squirrels–Momma teaching her young where the food was?–suddenly burst out of the leaves and scrambled for the hills.

I took the useless produce clamshell they’d somehow pried open and put it on another peach, hoping that one would have better luck. Went inside for the grape koolaid squirter and went at’em again because, oh well, it was something to do.

Walked back inside, wishing hard. Stepped out of the room, stepped back in, and now a big gray squirrel was sprawled on top of the bird netting cage over my single tomato plant not even far from the door, trying to figure out how to get to those. I gave it a what-for too and scared it away, took a deep breath, and headed inside yet again.

They had stayed away for so long. I wanted them to stay stayed, darn it.

There was almost like a tap on the shoulder.

I had long, long since forgotten that when the moving van had shown up with boxes near to the ceiling and halfway across the living room with my late parents-in-laws’ belongings (we were expecting a set of china for a daughter and not much more), that amongst all those items were what I took to be child toys. Really ugly child toys. From the father-in-law who once painted a homemade plaster of paris ornament as an orange Jack-o-lantern and proudly hung it on the Christmas tree every year when my husband was a kid.

My MIL, I am told, carefully made it so that that would be the thing most likely to break the next time the cat pulled the tree over, but it never worked.

Why, DadH, why, and I put the bouncy little crawly ickies over by the kid zone toy basket in the family room to let the grandkids tease each other with them. Or something.

Look. At. Those. as I strode across the room.

DadH had been an avid gardener.

Rubber snakes. Coiled. Two with mouths wide open and eyes fierce, with forked tongues sticking way out.

DUUUUUUH….!!! Thanks, Dad!

If I’d gone looking for them I would never have found them but there they were right there on top demanding to be noticed.

There are none in the Baby Crawford tree. No point anymore, although at least I’d picked one early to make sure we would get one single one. And that’s all we got. There are two snakes in the August Pride peach and one in the Thomas Jefferson-named Indian Free (as in freestone), which are small and hard and green for now.

I went out tonight to check.

The peaches are being left in peace again.

I haven’t seen a single squirrel since the snakes went out there.

Thank you, Dad, you’re a genius.