OliveOyl
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A Skunk Cabbage Memory Story
Behind our house…bunches of them lived in the swampy end of Lake Tiogue. They grew alongside the lily pads and green algae and a rotten stump that had a bird’s nest. I took the eggs out and brought them home. I hope I returned them at least, but I probably didn’t. Once a water moccasin slithered out of this creepiness. Uncle Louie saw it from our house next door. He ran across the backyard with a garden hoe and yelled, “head toward the house NOW!” We jumped off the swings and ran. But we didn’t know why. Until we turned around. We watched as he chopped the snake to death with the hoe.
The End
Behind our house…bunches of them lived in the swampy end of Lake Tiogue. They grew alongside the lily pads and green algae and a rotten stump that had a bird’s nest. I took the eggs out and brought them home. I hope I returned them at least, but I probably didn’t. Once a water moccasin slithered out of this creepiness. Uncle Louie saw it from our house next door. He ran across the backyard with a garden hoe and yelled, “head toward the house NOW!” We jumped off the swings and ran. But we didn’t know why. Until we turned around. We watched as he chopped the snake to death with the hoe.
The End



And this happened often enough for me to note a pattern.
I'll probably end up getting one of those bands, too, and integrating it into my usual practice. You picked off one of them, that clamshell seems so simple but hurts like a mutha when you're all out of whack, as I am. It's one thing of many. 
