Saturday night at The Big Mo. Double feature of the new Manhurian Candidate and Fahrenheit 9/11. Full moon. Hot dogs, popcorn and Coke at the concession stand. A plea to support the concessions by the voice over owner/ticket taker because that's the only way he and his family can keep the Big Mo going. A movie screen full of dead drive-ins. We turned the truck around, set up our directors' chairs in the flatbed, ran the battery all the way down listening to 94.3 FM, where the movie sound was being broadcast. The owner/ticket taker/rescue mechanic jump started the truck for us in the dark, while the movie played. We got home, us old fogies, at 2 AM.

Did you make out? asked our friend Betty.

Shoot, we said, snapping our fingers. We knew we left something out.

The resident great blue took off from the creek where it had been resting or eating, I watched it rise through the trees, wheel around to the north, and fly over the house on its way to somewhere else to spend the day. The wonderful thing is it will be back, it likes it here.

Plus I saw the heron gliding high in the sky over the road as I walked to pick up the paper this morning. Silence added to the romance of watching him out of sight. I can't get over how alive everything is down here. Including me.

A spider web hung between the trees in the woods. I could see it in a shaft of light that fell between the branches. It looked as if it were floating there, weightless, unattached, and gone like a dream as a cloud passed overhead and the direction of the light shifted.

Meantime, the latest snake is either a coral snake (beautiful, vivid bands of color, and poisonous) or a scarlet kingsnake (beautiful, vivid bands, and harmless). By the time we came back with the hoe, it was gone. We are choosing to believe it's harmless.

The snakeman says this one is deadlier than the last one.

If you get bitten, they say to bring the snake with you to the hospital.