As is the case with many homes in 'the bush', our water supply emanates from a bore. Thankfully the water is not brown, nor does it stain any place it lands. The water from our bore is pure and clear. Not that I drink it except in coffee or tea ... I buy bottled water from the supermarket. This is because of the propaganda one reads about germs in water.
Anyway, back to the story in hand.
Our water is pumped by electric pump from the bore to a holding tank near the house. Each time I wash the clothes, as part of a routine, I wander down 'the avenue' and switch on the pump, which isn't as efficient as it could be. Any where from an hour to and hour and a half later the tank overflows and I hurry down to switch the pump off. Easy! 'The Avenue' [so named by no other than myself] is a formed track lined with an avenue of gums that have a fascinating bark. At one stage of their growth the bark is almost white, then in a certain time of the year the bark tends to peel off, much like a cast orange skin that just misses the trash bin. Bark lies in interesting shapes along the track.
Another phenonomen that is beginning to occur at this time of year is the ritual stripping of end leaves, and small twigs, of the gum trees by galahs and twenty eights. The Avenue then displays a carpet of crunchy green ... until the sun's heat dries it when it turns into a rather pretty shade of pinky beige. One can imagine a cool living room decorated in the colours of the leaves still on the tree [a cool almost lime green], with accents of the pinky beige.
Recently the house tank overflowed. I had a larger wash than usual so hurried down to switch the pump off. Upon opening the door of the meter box, to my utmost horror, something black sprung up from the base of the box. I slammed the lid down and almost ran back to Dave insisting he come and see.
Once upon a time a family of geckos lived in the meter box ... sometimes one would fall out when I opened the door as it had been too close to the edge. What I recoiled from was not a gecko!
Dave armed himself with a tool designed to hold snakes at bay. I armed myself with a spade. Tools of the trade if we were in the business of disposing of snakes! By this time I was persuaded that what I had seen must have been a snake ... if it wasn't simply the piece of stick that rested on the bottom of the box, just in case Mrs Redback decided to make a birthing spot for her babies.
Refusing to open the door ... I am not silly ... I insisted Dave undertake that honour. Gingerly he opened the door. There was nothing there!
For a moment he looked doubtfully at me. Did he think I had imagined the black thing?! I persuaded him that I had indeed seen something, and that something was black and sprung up.
There was a small arpeture at the bottom of the box; we surmised that Mr Snake, which I was informed most likely was a harmless python [still a snake!!!], had most likely slid earthwards through this small opening. Needless to say it was with some trepidation that I switched the pump on and off for the next few times. Now I realise that a snake would probably not go back to the same place twice if its source of food was no longer available.
Yesterday one of the geckos, or one of its relatives, had returned. I will now continue to be careful when opening the door to the meter box.
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