Mare’s tails, we called them. They offered the possibility of some respite from the heat as we made our way up and down the rows. Two up, two back, sun-up to around noon, when the heat would drive us in for lunch. Baloney sandwiches and ice cold sweet tea, maybe some leftover cake if we were lucky. Afterwards, a long nap on the cool linoleum floor.
By 2:00 we’d be back in the field, revived and working quickly to finish as much as we could by 5:00 when it’d be time to change the irrigation pipe. Mom set the pace and I kept up as best I could. If I was unlucky and got the rows where the Johnson grass patch sent tubers deep into the red sand, she’d come and help me dig it out.
Up and down, up and down, eyes darting, me watching for snakes, Mom watching for field mice, each with our separate demons.
Once she chopped the head off a small gopher snake, left it laying between the furrows, waiting for me to get even with the dead carcass so she could yell “SNAKE!” and laugh while I went leaping up and down the row, shrieking and cursing.
Once she chopped the head off a small gopher snake, left it laying between the furrows, waiting for me to get even with the dead carcass so she could yell “SNAKE!” and laugh while I went leaping up and down the row, shrieking and cursing.
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