The Apricot Tree

This Old House

     John Snyder and his son Brian woke earlier than usual on Sunday morning. In Brian's way of thinking more sleep would have been a waste of precious time. He and his dad descended the stairway leading down to the main floor of the house. They walked through the kitchen quickly exiting the back door. They were on a mission.

     Brian looked up at his dad and whispered, “I don’t think we woke anybody Dad.”

     John replied, “I don’t think so. That's good news.”

     John lifted the metal door covering the outside steps to the basement. Carefully, he leaned it against the house. He cautiously descended the steep, worn out wooden steps leading down into semidarkness. Brian stayed close behind.  After clearing away cobwebs and spiders John slowly pushed on the small basement door just enough so he could see through the opening. He squinted trying to peer inside. He couldn't see much except dark silhouettes and indiscernible shadows that were cast onto the floor and walls by the small amount of light managing to wriggle its way through the tiny basement window.

     Reaching through the opening John flipped a switch. The one and only, but very dim, lightbulb came to life.  He had been considering replacing the bulb with more wattage, but after living in the house for five years he figured why hurry. 

     Brian was trying to look across the dark floor with his little flashlight. He was disappointed that it didn't offer as much light as he was hoping for. John continued to push the door open just enough so the two of them could enter quickly. He ducked to keep from hitting his forehead on the top of the short frame. Without hesitating they squeezed through the opening making sure the door was firmly closed behind them. Armed with flashlights, they slowly crept across the basement floor, carefully inspecting under shelves, behind boxes, and around the furnace. 

      The furnace was old, but it still managed to push hot water to the radiators in each room of the house. The basement wasn't used except to store items that were rarely needed. Brian thought the basement would make a great haunted house on Halloween, but he was having a difficult time getting that idea approved by his mother.

      “Do you see anything, Dad.” Brian didn't bother to look up. He continued to examine what he thought might be good hiding places.

      “I don't see him yet. He has to be in here somewhere. Your mom was sure she saw it come in here yesterday when she was working in the back yard.” John straightened up to check out potential spots above the floor. Pointing his flashlight towards the shelf just beneath the partially open window he exclaimed, “There he is Brian! On the shelf!” 

      “Grab him Dad!  We'll put him in a cage.”

      “Maybe you should grab him Brian.”

      “I can't reach the shelf.”

      “Okay.  I'll get him.” John kept his flashlight shining on his victim, reached out and picked up one of the largest bull snakes he had ever captured. Upon closer inspection, he looked at Brian and declared, “This one could measure at least three feet, Brian.” 

      It wasn't uncommon to collect one or two snakeskins, or skeletons, when giving the basement its annual cleaning. Sara, John's wife, left the cleaning to him.

      Brian, his sister Gwynn, and their mother all referred to the basement as the dungeon. Not much was down there. Just a sixty-watt light bulb, very old and very empty shelves, a few storage boxes, the furnace, dampness, and of course, snakes. Snakes would figure out a way to get inside whether a window was left cracked open or not. But for some reason they couldn't find their way back out. Or maybe it was because they didn't want to leave the comfort of the basement.

      Brian couldn't wait to handle the snake. “Dad, can I take him in the house to show Gwynn and mom?”

      John was curiously watching the harmless snake wind itself around his arm. “If you do that Brian, keep in mind that you could be wearing this snake for a necklace. You know that your mom and sister don't approve of snakes. Especially in the house.”

       “Okay.  I'll just take him outside and turn him loose.  Maybe he'll go catch a mouse.” It was questionable if Brian would actually let the snake go or invent a new way to torture his sister.

       His dad replied, “All right.  But hurry because we need to get ready to go!”

       Gwynn came out of the upstairs bathroom just as Brian walked by. She asked. “Did you and Dad catch the snake and turn him loose?”

       Brian might have just turned six but he was smart enough to not let an opportunity slip past him.  He didn't slow down or look at Gwynn and uttered casually, “Yes we did. I put him in your underwear drawer.”  He sped up and rapidly descended the stairway, skipping two or three on his way to the bottom.

       Gwynn was hot on his trail. “Brian! You better not have. Mom!” Sara was standing in the kitchen, working at the counter.  Both kids came to a sliding stop behind her.  Gwynn stood indignantly with both hands on her hips and exclaimed in a quick loud voice, “Brian said he put that snake in my underwear drawer!”

        Sara turned around from the counter and leaned against it with her arms folded.  She looked straight at Brian and asked calmly and coolly, “Brian, what did you do with the snake?” 

        Brian replied sheepishly, “I put him in the bushes in the backyard so he might catch a mouse.”

        “You don't need to be a pest and tormentor. You know it upsets your sister. Now both of you get ready for church.”    

        Upon entering her bedroom Gwynn cautiously opened her delicate things drawer. She peeked inside just to make sure nothing was living in there.