bottles and bargins

My grandfather was a rancher. They had 120 acres in Tetonia, Idaho. There was a small one story house. Adjacent the house was a large lawn that was big enough to play baseball on, and to shoot the bow and arrow. On the corner of the lawn there was a massive willow tree that. It's huge limbs would swing back and forth with the wind. A solitary rope hung from a limb. Attached was a swing with a tire knotted at the bottom. So peaceful was this place. No cars could be seen or heard within it's reach. As a child it was litterally my huge playground.

Surrounding their house was a 5 acre pasture. There was a pump house that contained feed for the horses and sadles for riding just inside the gate. At the back of the property there was a creek that was a haven for Cat Tails and minnows. Behind the pumphouse were the remains of a fallen down barn. All that could be seen was the foundation and tiles from the outside walls. I would walk though the rubble imaginging what this place looked like in it's days of glory. I loved to collect old things and fancied myself a junior acreologist. I saw something that caught my attention; an old glass bottom partily covered by an old log. I picked it up and there was a liquid inside so I turned it uside down to let the liquid drain out. Out it came, but it was then I realized that something was dreadfully wrong. Instead of a liquid that dropped to the ground, this water stayed together in a solid mass slowy seeping in a through the opening. A scream erupted out of my lips as I realized that the liquid was indeed a snake that had made it's home in my shiney bottle. I drop the bottle and ran as fast as I could, only to stop a few yards away. I looked at the snake, ready to flee at any sign of danger. The snake slowly slithered away, seemingly not to notice me is his movements. We then both went about our business, but we both glanced back at the other, making sure there would be no more nonsense.