This week with what little free time we've had between softball games, and basketball camp we've worked on outside projects. A lot of the work has been taken care by Cody's favorite mead of transportation...the tractor. He's repaired our gravel road that takes constant beatings by the rainstorms we've had, and he bush-hogged (I'm so desperately trying to think of another word for this, for the readers who aren't familiar with this term-it's a machine you pull behind the tractor that basically "mows" fields)areas closer to the house, sprucing things up a bit.

One place in particular he tended to was an area right behind our house that I refer to as, the “City of Lost Baseballs”. Gavin would hit the ball long and hard, over our heads into this tall grassy area, and we'd immediately chalk the ball up as a "goner", mostly because I did not want to have to start referring to that area as the “City of Lost Children”. Well, last night with it freshly mowed, I decided it would be the perfect opportunity to look for lost baseballs. I quickly found 3, and stomped around looking for more. About 5-10 minutes after I'd given up my search, the husband, who'd been mowing our yard, moved to the edge of grass right by COLB, and quickly went into hysterics...um I mean moved into hero- mode pushing us all back in one fall swoop, running into the house with lightning speed, and emerging with his weapon of choice (Gavin's .22) stopping the evil culprit in his tracks.

And who was this evil culprit I speak of? Why this guy right here:

Readers meet Mr. Copperhead, guardian of City of Lost Baseballs. I'm not usually afraid of snakes, not that I love them, but they don't bother me, say like those little spawns of satan spiders. Guys, I was physically ill, after this incident, knowing I stomped (yes stomped, the grass was tall, and I was feeling for baseballs with my shoes) in an area where I could have ...should have been Copperhead appetizer!