Senses Inventory: Rattlesnake Edition

   Today I was trapped in the barn... paralyzed... completely unable to move for about seven and a half hours. Helpless and terrified. Because the batteries or something inside our motion detector emergency light sounds EXACTLY like a rattlesnake.

I thought. I was going. To die.

   So, in the spirit of Redeem the Time, since my word of the year Strength had most certainly eluded me, I decided a Senses Inventory was past due. Anyway, the intensity of the situation had my senses all keen and in overdrive. Not writing this would have been a waste of the moment. I mean, it would have been a waste of the hours.

   While standing in the barn like a New Orleans street performer** playing freeze tag, gripping a rake in one hand and an empty rubber bowl in the other, I took inventory. This is what I noticed...

See: Sand, dirt, loose hay, and a little buffalo fluff strewn about the floor. Five chickens seeking shelter behind the machinery. Wet shadows of dirt at the margins of the barn, soaking inward. A pile of colorful beekeeping supplies, waiting for the first tasks of springtime. Dusty four-wheelers. Loft stacked high with a collection of found lumber and other building supply treasures. That purple, black and white horse blanket we bought for the girls at the end of the last summer we spent together as a family.

Smell:  Hay, dirt, llama breath (Romulus had just excused himself from a barn visit), and rain. Glorious, clean, refreshing rain. Motor oil and gasoline. Fear. I smelled my own fear.

Touch: Fast Woman's silky soft coat and round, heavy belly. Her nearly prehensile tail wrapping around my forearm. Horse scissors between my knuckles. Nylon mesh netting peeling like Velcro away from the new round bale of hay. My running clothes pasted against me with sweat. I-pod cord draped around my neck. Cool breeze teasing in from beneath the east doors.

Hear: Chickens pecking and clucking secrets to each other, probably about wherever the heck they are all laying their eggs. Horses just outside the west door crunching their afternoon hay and breathing and snuffling that wonderful way that horses breathe and snuffle. An accelerating tap dance of rain on the metal roof. Rattlesnake.

Taste: The last trace of an orange I ate earlier. And dirt, just barely, probably form kissing the horses. I was a little sad to think that an orange and some dirt might be my last meal.

   What's going on in your world today? What are your senses revealing to you? If you hear a rattlesnake, I hope it's really just a battery.

Soak it All Up
xoxoxo

*though obviously (and sadly) I was lacking silver or gold full body paint, a costume AND a devilish puppet...

Rule of Travel: Never, ever, ever waste time or energy sucking in your tummy for photos.