Safe Passage

It was a fragrant, clear morning, no breeze. Daffodils dried in the sun, while tulips dropped their petals, one by one. Sitting on a stool, I dug little holes and carefully separated tiny snapdragon seedlings, transplanting them in groups along the edge of the perennial bed, then doused them with fertilizer.

A couple of feet away on my right, something moved. I glanced up. Slipping over the stone edging, a mature garter snake stopped, perfectly motionless. We stared at each other a second or two.

A whole thought form materialized in my mind. “Parlay safe passage?” She flicked her tongue to test the air. Her vulnerable fear was palpable.

“Yes,” I replied, with instinctive, interspecies manners of exchange, and turned back to my work.

She slid the rest of her long, graceful body over the stones. As she disappeared into the garden, a deep part of me shuddered. I reached out with my garden tool to her to hurry her along.

I sensed her adrenaline as she sped up. Reflecting with shame, my mind reached out to her signature energy field.

“I apologize. My people have long had fear and problems with your kind. But not with your family. Please accept my apology.” I think she heard me, but she did not reply.

I remembered I had seen this harmless, insect and rodent eating snake a few days ago, some 75 feet away, in a clump of young trees, at the edge of a meadow. I had warned her then to be careful, it’s not safe here. Today she was heading that direction. I sensed she was seeking her daily fare.

I kept working. The sun grew hot and high in the sky. As I came around the other side of the bed, I saw her disappear again back into the iris and columbine. She’d made her circuit, was heading back to her wooded nest, moving between hiding spots.

My husband and our German Shepherd came out to sit in the shade and watch me work. I told my husband what had happened. He didn’t like snakes, at all, but I felt if I told him this story he would be a bit more tolerant, and hopefully keep the dog from harassing the snake.

I picked up my plants and tools and headed to another part of the garden. Suddenly my husband said, “There she is,” and called the dog away from the snake.  She disappeared safely back into the woods.

I meditated on my behavior, and vowed to become more immediately conscious of my feelings and knee jerk responses. These days we must all take better care of each other. Refuge for safe passage is important to all living things, regardless of race, creed, orientation, or even species. We receive what we put out in the world. And we never know when we might need the favor returned.