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My wife's piercing, primal scream sent chills down my spine.
It was last Thursday, and we had gone to the cabin to dut the grass and check on things. I was inside and she was outside.
I almost took the screen door off its hinges getting out there.
Keep this in mind. My wife is not faint hearted. She is not squeam^h. She was raised on a farm, killed chickens by wringing their necks and has seen more bears, copperheads and rattlesnakes than any woman I know.
The lady builds rock fences. And she has spent many, many nights in the Blue Ridge with me.
So, when I heard her scream, I knew it was not a mouse or a bug or a ringneck snake.
I was scared.
I rounded the comer of the
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