Omens? and strawberry wine

So my trip to the farmer's market was interesting. I rode one of the bike's available to me here and suffered, hyperbolically speaking, a profound case of saddle soreness not 5 min. out, The fit of the bike was a touch off and I'm quite generous when I say that the seat was inadequately conformed to my person. En route I passed one farm on the way that inspired me to pen some verse, which I will not however post in this space because my poetry is laughably bad, as opposed to my blog writing. *awkward pause* Anyway so I arrived at 3289 285th street 40 minutes after setting out , and there are chickens walking around as opposed to being frozen and stacked in orderly packages. My suspicions were soon confirmed when I bumped into Dave, who was in the opening acts of revving up a chainsaw when he spied me. (note: I metaphorically rather than literally bumped into him, as a general rule I don't go "bumping into" men who are or about to be engaged in the operation of a chainsaw) He informed me that I was not at a farmer's market but rather a tree farm, (it seemed obvious upon looking around after the fact). Apparently his wife beverly helps run the market and the address I had was her contact info rather than the address of the market. Apparently she was at the moment helping out at a yard sale one farm back the way I came. I returned to that farm met her, informed her that I was in fact the nice young man who had called and left a message. Anyway I picked up a small iron skillet (yes!) and a metal rack to cool cookies and support roasts and was informed when I was about to leave that they were on the house. The farmer's market apparently was open, but in cambridge 10 miles north, a distance I dare not attempt on my cycle o'lessthancomfortable. Beverly apparently worked at cedar creek for 26 years so we chatted about that. And Dave her husband was interesting, were-dog and some others have often commented on my soft small hands, Dave was at the other end of the spectrum, I don't know if I've ever met someone that broad-shouldered, and obviously strong at his age of 60+.
On the way back I found the wind in my face. The good news is I never felt a drop of rain, the uncertain news came in the form of two omens. I was riding along and across from the local cemetary I noticed that there was a dead garter snake on the side of the road. I continue to pedal and not 40 feet away from the snake there is a dead dove on the side of the road. So here I am across from a cemetary and I've come upon a dead snake and bird in the space of 3 seconds. I think this is some sort of prophecy or omen, however I am not well versed in the methodology and science of Omen interpretation. So what do you all think it means? Please, I long to hear the informed, uninformed, or misinformed commentary and thought of my audience, as small as that may be ( the audience is small, not the thought. I don't want to accidentally offend anyone here).
Upon my return I made peanut-butter cookies and added about 4x the flour that the recipe required (this unlike most of my cooking/baking recipe diversions was a non-accidental change in the recipe). They turned out great. I then was picked up and taken to a party that steve, known here before as head-fire guy who went to U of Maine for grad school and knows Hash, Tom, Sally, Dan M., and others, was having. They had homemade strawberry wine. It was good, about one below top-shelf good, on a seven-shelved-bookshelf-thing, as was the homemade grape a 4.5/7, although the homemade peach as Steve rather pointedly admitted was a touch flat. I went and saw their wine making operation downstairs, very impressive with all the colorful glass bottles and the enormous 20-30 gallon(?) glass bottle/cauldron/flask? in the middle of the room.
On mother's day while I was contemplating salad, it suddenly dawned on me that I had all the necessary ingredients for a waldorf salad. So I made one and roasted some pork in the Golden Hind fashion (to those who don't know/remember the pork butt was covered with mustard and seasonings before being roasted).
In order to make the waldorf I had to make my own mayonnaise for the second time in my life. I highly recommend this to anyone who hasn't done it as you get to combine those age old enemies, the montisqueus and capulets of the liquid realm (please pardon my probable misspellings ), water and oil. Perhaps this was the meaning of the omens. Two things so unalike in life the peaceful soaring dove and the ground loving sin inducing serpent would be brought together as equals in death, although my mayonnaise didn't die. Well on that happy thought I leave you gentle reader. And please feel free to comment, joke, pontificate, on the omens or on anything either here or to me via email. The major downside to blogging is that its a one-way street and I so long to here the stories of middlebury, beer-die, grad school, work, or the bosses new best-selling book.