Getting Closer

I'm getting closer to a couple of things... Meeting a rattlesnake up close and personal and running into a former boss - it's just a matter of time for both.

Working in St. Helena today I walked out to the back area of a country lot located up above Lake Hennessey - not much out there besides vineyards and one-lane roads.

As I walked away from the house, the agent said - of course - "Watch out for rattlesnakes." I knew he was going to say that and I was already on high alert, scanning the ground all around me.

I got my shots and made a hasty retreat to the deck while we talked about snakes. He told me how his cat catches and kills baby rattle snakes and leaves them on his front stoop. That's one talented cat.

Finishing up around the front of the house, I walked off toward the side of the yard and he said "Be careful..." He was really worried I'd walk right into one. Then he told me that whenever the topic of snakes comes up, he usually sees one soon thereafter. Neat!

As for the boss... A few months ago I happened to think of a former boss I loved working for but lost touch with over the years, so I sent him a message through an online networking service. The message bounced back, but I figured he'd get the message whenever he logged in.

Then a former coworker and I who have been in touch again for the past few months sent me a message about another former colleague and he showed up as a link on her page.

The other day I was leaving an open house when I saw a couple coming up the walk - I thought for sure it was him and his wife. I thought that was weird - what would they be doing there? But it turned out to be their doubles.

Today when I stopped for coffee a guy came walking past my car - he looked exactly like my former boss. What the hell is going on with the universe?

I think it'll be fun to get back in touch with him, so I'm looking forward to that. I am not looking forward to meeting any snakes - ever.

Widows & Rattlesnakes

Yesterday I photographed a little country estate in Kenwood, and to prep a particular shot I began to move a garden hose off the driveway into the hedges. As I moved the hose the agent casually called to me from across the yard, "Watch out for rattlesnakes."

I sprang away from the hose and asked "Are you shitting me?" and she said No, that rattlers like to hang out around water and will sometimes curl up in the hose. Damn - good to know. I need a special training class with this sort of information.

Later, while photographing the pool, I opened up two patio umbrellas, carefully watching the ground all around the pool for snake-like shapes, feeling very under-dressed in regular, non-Kevlar pants and shoes. A Kevlar jumpsuit, really, is what I should have handy.

I finished the shoot and went to close up the umbrellas. While closing the second one, I noticed what appeared to be a large-ish black widow hanging out in the folds of the fabric.

Alrighty - that's enough umbrella time. I grabbed my shit and ran off that patio, high-stepping over a well-manicured lawn with a horrendous case of the heebie jeebies. What might be waiting for me in my car, a scorpion? A wasps' nest?

We may not have beautiful, wide open country vistas out of every window or a Chanel-like pool in the backyard, but at least I don't have to worry about grabbing a rattle snake when I water the plants, and I think that's wonderful.

Poopy Pants Time

I almost walked right into this little* guy down at the Salton Sea last weekend. He was sunning himself at the deep end of an empty swimming pool behind the Aces & Spades club.

*We guestimate he was about 3 or 4-feet long and a couple inches in diameter. But that was last Saturday. Today he's 10-feet long and four inches in diameter and next week he'll be triple that size. With fangs the size of steak knives.

On previous trips through that part of the North Shore, most everything has been fenced off, but this time huge sections of the fence that once secured the old pool had been removed. I thought it might be cool to see what things looked like from the deep end of the pool.

I'm so glad I looked down into the pool before I was in it. When I saw Mr. Rattlekins, I almost crapped myself. I've never seen a real, live snaky snake in the outdoors before.

The immediate fear was surprising, even though he was at least eight feet below me. I thought at any moment he could spring up from the pool and sink his 14-inch fangs into my face.

As soon as I got my breath back, I started shouting DAD, DAD, DAD, DAD, DAD!!! but he was already around the front of the building. I snapped a few shots then went to find him.

I then noticed how much dry brush surrounds every path on the premises. And me, without my kevlar pants, having to walk through all that to find my dad.

When I found him, I told him what was in the pool and he couldn't wait to see it for himself. We went back to the pool, but by that time Mr. Handbag had wound himself underneath a dry palm frond, probably trying to hide from the biped that wouldn't stop shouting "DAD!"

I watched my Dad instantly transform from a mature, responsible man to a six-year-old boy as he started throwing twigs and debris into the pool to get the snake to move. If he'd had a stick long enough, he would have used it to poke him.

My protests fell on deaf ears - he was determined to drive Mr. Rattleboots out from under the palm frond. But the rattler wouldn't budge and I was relieved. We left him there and I was happy to head home to change my pants.