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MACH SCHELL'S STORYBOOK: Granny and the Green Snake Granny was terry-fied of snakes By Mach Schnell Probably not a real name Julie Sullivan's wonderful essay about her serpent-snipin' Mama brought to mind the infamous episode of Granny and the green snake. I've often wondered why Granny was so "terry-fied" (her word) of snakes. I mean, Lordy, there's never been a snake that was mean and ornery enough to hold a candle to any one of her six hell-raising sons. But, by gum, terry-fied of snakes she was, and the facts of the matter didn't make no never mind. Six feet or six inches long; brown, striped or gray-grizzly-green; "piz-nus" or not; Methodist, Baptist, Presbyterian or Unitarian--if it were a snake, Granny was terry-fied of it. Now that the primary fact of this whole tale has been established, let me hasten on. The incident described below happened when Granny was eighty years old or at least beating a right steady tattoo on eighty's door with her favorite little short walking stick. In addition to her fourscore (or thereabouts) years putting a damper on her get-along, Granny also had a touch of the rheumatiz that called for liberal applications of Ben-Gay, and of course, the use of her favorite little short walking stick should her perambulations take her beyond the front porch of the rickety old farmhouse. Such was the case one fine day in May, the day Granny met the green snake. Granny's farmshouse was just a mile and a whisker outside town Granny lived alone at the old farmhouse. This would be the same farmhouse where Uncle made me practice goosestepping, just a mile and whisker outside town. My parents lived a tad closer in, but far enough away to warrant driving to Granny's whenever the crops there needed attention. Such was case on the aforementioned fine day in May. Hardly had the car doors slapped until Granny hit the door, favorite little short walking stick in tow, and she started tottering the 50 yards or so down the drive and across a rough patch of lawn to thecherry tree where my folks were. By the time she got to the tree, my folks were already picking cherries and Granny of course was already talking. Did I mention Granny liked to talk? My father was wont to tell people she ate only donuts so she could talk through the hole while she ate, but that's a whole different story. Granny was winded from all the walking and talking Anyway, by the time Granny got to the cherry tree she was a little winded from all the walking and talking, and the ground wasn't any too even, so she decided to grab hold of a branch in the nearby chestnut tree to steady herself and spotted a nice horizontal branch at just about the most convenient height possible. Granny was too busy talking to look closely at the branch until her fingers were already closing 'round it. And that's when Granny met the green snake. It was ever so peacefully "kwiled" around the chestnut branch right where her hand almost was, taking a postprandial snooze. But that made no never mind. Remember--Granny was terry-fied of snakes. Granny forgot she was eighty years old, that she was stove up with the rheumatiz, and that she needed her favorite little short walking stick past the confines of the front porch. As best as we could reconstruct later, three things happened blinding fast, each occurring before the other two: Granny gave forth a mighty whoop, her favorite little walking stick went end over end through the air and landed just short of Williams Creek, way the heck down the hill, and Granny set a new world's record in the "up the drive and back to the house" fifty yard dash. And the snake went back to sleep. As I told Mr. Ed Waggener in regard to the tale of Uncle making me goosestep, Granny and the green snake is very near to Gospel truth.It has a thin veneer of embellishment but not enough to go to hell over. To read Julie Sullivan's wonderful essay, "Sanoan would like to see her mother's great triumph" Click Here. This story was posted on 2006-03-19 06:52:27
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