Hail, Texas!

Some of you, like me, may have been required to read I Heard the Owl Call My Name in eighth grade English. I forget what the significance of the owl's call was. It was either a portent of death or a signal beginning the rite of passage into manhood. I bring this up because I saw a portent of parallel importance this morning. I saw my first big snake.

What this means, I reckon, is that the Republic of Texas is finally welcoming me without reservation, finally opening up her truest self to me, finally clasping me into her bosom. When one thinks of Texas, one often thinks of big snakes, but I have lived here for two years and five months without a single glimpse of one. It's been difficult.

It was a grand, thick serpent, nosing its way onto the bike path at White Rock Lake. As I pedaled past it returned on itself, folding itself beautifully alongside itself as only a creature with such majestic bendable qualities can do. I have a horrible memory for colors, so I forget whether its underside was a nuclear-moon-mold tint of green or a toxic-oil-spill hue of orange, but I am certain that it differed from the dull matte finish of most of its dark body. It was immensely satisfying to see.

Ah, Texas! Thank you!