I do tend to err on the side of drama but today it was justified as I come across two mole hills in my lawn. It was a real dilemma, because while I find them cute in photos – really, I’m not a fan of little scuttling, furry creatures or even the idea of them. A friend once told me that her brother had run into their house screaming that something had run up his trouser leg …it was a mole. That story horrified me and I had visions of mice, spiders, moles … you name it – all plotting to creep up the leg of my trousers. Even though this was years ago – the horror stuck and to this day, trouser legs are methodically tucked into socks if the grass is long. Not a great look.
Anyway back to today’s moles:
Having been dragged out to look and to protect me, my disbelieving husband really wasn’t in the mood for histrionics until he saw the heaps of earth for himself. He gingerly flipped some soil with his toe and the moles were …ants. Two seething, writhing colonies of ants methodically moving eggs around in the manner of Egyptians dragging the stones for the great pyramids.
As they were nowhere near the house his unrepeatable suggestion of how to get rid of them was refused … and, bravely tucking my trousers into my socks, the weeding of my little estate continued.