Friday, February 15, 2013
The last time I shot a jingle worm, he was between the generator shed and I. He was Big, and dark green, and not happy that I had encouraged him to leave the sliding door track. When he got far enough away from the house, I emptied both barrels into him, and my new garden hose, now a soaker hose. My Sean was not impressed, "Jeez Mom, there isn't a big enough piece of him left to feed the chickens." No, and I was fine with that.
See the thing about living in the back of beyond was you didn't have access to those power lines that can light up your life. Nope, you had a honking big diesel generator, (that lived in it's very own shed). You learned pretty quick that the gas refrig wasn't all that great, or big or cheap to run. That the gas stove had been installed with Electronic Ignition, and that the switch in the house that turned on/off the generator (out there in it's very own shed) was not liked by the generator. The generator liked to be talked to with a soft voice... sorta like "come on babe, you can do this... fire up babe, please...," given a straight shot of primer, and sometimes even required a full front hug. This made it necessary for "someone" to go out to the generator shed at 0-dark-thirty in the morning and wake the generator. After everyone had done their morning ablutions, it was turned off. In the evening the process started again with "someone" going out and turning on the generator for an hour or so before putting the kids to bed, going out an turning the generator off and turning on the kerosene lantern to read by. The evening trip was always a little dicey, as that was when the jingle worms liked to be moving about. So "someone" always had a shotgun handy.
Well except for a horseback, because we didn't have the kind of horses it was wise to shoot off of...