Deafening snakes and stuff

People who are born deaf and gain hearing later in life are often surprised that the sun does not give off a sound, song or noise of some sort. The sun actually does have a sound, much like a pneumatic hammer drill, but it is ameliorated or annihilated by the softening of the vacuum of space. Looking at the sun in that context, I imagine Johnny Cash singing 'Ring of Fire' or Pat Benatar belting out some power ballad or Pink Floyd strumming guitars and banging drums in a frenzy. But what sound do I expect the sun to actually emit? Perhaps similar to the waves on a gentle sea shore, constant and calming, but warm at the same time. No I am not some weird tree hugging person who worships odd things and dances around at the full moon in a ritualistic gyrating grandma vibe. I just like to ask strange questions. And plants, do they have a song? Well, apparently they do. An artist has developed a sonic window into the secret life of plants. He connects two receptors to leaves and converts it to music. In 2011 he wanted to connect bio-feedback from plants to music and this whole branch of scientific research was born. In 2011, what was I doing? Oh yes, watching a hedgehog jump and capture a bumblebee for a snack. It was a bitterly cold Autumn day and I was wrapped up with gloves and socks and jerseys till I looked like a Yeti. I was outside collecting firewood for the fireplaces in the home and grumbling about a cat that was dying and having no money to take it to the vet hospital. I hoped that a warm fire might give some comfort to our aged kitty. Anyhow, there I was bent over the firewood box and I noticed the hedgehog lurking below a small ridge in the garden that had several holes in it. The bumblebees must have made their home inside, and hedgie found a way to feed his bumblebee addiction. Who knew that hedgehogs could jump like pole vaulters if they wanted to? Snow had fallen on the volcanic plateau and the wind whistled over the peaks and straight in my backdoor. Maybe I am maligning the hedgehog and she/he was just trying to boost their body fat for the Winter months and not nibbling at fluffy flying things for fun? Nature is fascinating.

St Patrick's day has just passed and I wondered about the story that he threw snakes out of Ireland as his major claim to fame. He was Roman and taken as a slave to live amongst the Celtic clans, only to escape and return to England and his family. Then he went back to Ireland to preach Christianity. Okay, all run of the mill stuff up to now, but what's with the snakes? Many cultures around the world, from China to America, India to Samoa have a snake deity in their history. Even Christianity has its intertwined snakes on a pole that Moses held up to heal the sick in the desert. Nathair was the snake god of the Druids. Two snakes embracing one another. Gael, the progenitor of the Gaelic clans was supposedly bitten by a snake on that exodus from Egypt and healed by Moses and his intertwined snake symbol. It makes perfect sense that the Druids would continue on with this symbol of resurrection (snakes shed their skin in a symbolic gesture of rejuvenation and re-birth). But why was St Patrick so keen to rid the country of snake worshiping druids? Who really knows the truth? Did he feel that he needed to cleanse the paganistic practices in Ireland that didn't fit with his Christian views? What we do know is that he expelled the snakes and became revered for his amazing service to the Celts. But were they real snakes, or pagan rituals that were unacceptable to the Roman credo? Me myself, I enjoy a bit of eccentricity and I grew up with a father who loved snakes. My father was half Irish but not at all influenced by their beliefs, he just loved all animals and marvelled at the physics and engineering of their structures and creation. We didn't worship snakes as a family, we revered them for their ability to rid our garden of slugs and frogs, snails and bugs that ate my mother's plants. One of my very first pets was a Cape file snake that accompanied me to school each day. Safely tucked into the pocket of my school uniform out of sight, but still close enough that I could stroke it when I became anxious. My grandmother had sewn that uniform for me and made sure my pockets were commodious enough to hide little treasures and sleeping serpents. The snake could grow up to 120 cm in length, but my particular pet was little more than the size of my palm. One day the snake must have been frightened by something in the classroom and he/she pooped in my pocket. When we got home, Gran was not amused and told me that I would have to do without my emotional support snake from then on. We placed the snake in the garden and it left without a backwards glance into the bushes where it no doubt found other snakes to prey on. I would sometimes put my hand in my pocket and imagine snake snuggled in there to flick its little tongue at me and close it brille eyelids one more time in greeting. Ah, I was a strange child.

Just to show that I am still a bit strange even as an adult, did you know that Queen Elizabeth I loved sugary treats. Every single day. She would then brush her teeth with a honey mixture so that she could fall asleep with a sweet flavour in her mouth. You can imagine that it didn't do much for her dental health and by the time she was 50 all her teeth were black. Some had been removed when they became rotten and it affected her speech. Half her mouth was toothless and her words were difficult to understand. The ladies of the court blacked their teeth with soot to emulate the Queen. Oh my goodness me, why? She was sexually abused as a child by the husband of Catherine Parr, her father's final wife. When Catherine died, Edward Seymour wanted to marry Elizabeth for a way to steal the crown and continue on with his pedophilic ways. This is all well documented by the way. Sometimes it is the man in the suit that is the worst sexual offender, someone who should be above reproach. My husband worked with sex offenders and never told me their names, of course, but that they were often the least offensive person you could imagine. The kind man who offers to look after your children while you go to the shops, the person in authority who shows an interest, the uncle, the trusted friend. Why are some people fixated about Drag Queens abusing children? Firstly they would need to undo layers and layers of clothing to even get close to doing the act. And then the glitter? Do you know how much glitter travels? All the police or parents need to do is follow the trail of glitter from child to offender. Nope, I don't think so. I attended pantomimes as a child and we all knew that Cinderella's ugly step-sisters were male and we loved it. It was slapstick comedy that appealed to young and old. Drag Queens are amazing. Walking around with all that paint on their faces, strapped and wigged and whatevered up the wazoo, goodness, they put in so much effort for very little reward. Panto was performed on ice in Durban. The weather outside was frightful, (at least 40degrees C or over 100 degrees F.) And those men were skating with all those hot layers of clothing, throwing imaginary buckets of water on people in the front row and clowning around till we laughed until our sides hurt. Good times. I always wanted to be Cinderella, but of course, I have no balance and skating was an impossibility then as it is now.

Our end of life kitty has finally shuffled off this mortal coil and yesterday we laid her to rest. She has been a companion for my daughter for 16 years and this cold weather was playing havoc with her sore joints. With a short visit to the vet and a quiet jab of a needle, she left us to grieve her passing. She left me one final gift, a big poop in the middle of my bathroom floor. Did she conspire with my Cape file snake? No, she found it too difficult to climb into the litter box and who can blame her. May she be listening to the song of the sun and chasing mice under Queen's thrones, may her rest be eternally beyond comfort and may she be waiting with all our other fluffy friends when we finally meet again. I leave you with an Irish blessing:

May sweet things never rot your teeth

And may trees and flowers sing you a lullabye,

While guitars strum the feelings of your heart

Gently and with grace, always and forever.

Let kittens find rest in your lap

And snakes offer their healing,

May rain bring rejuvenation

And toothless Queens call you amazing,

crazy and fabulous every day of your life.

Oh okay, it's not really an Irish blessing, but hey, I try. Or as my mother always said "You are very trying Patricia, very trying."