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Sophie’s Snail, Again…



Is it news to say the rain came down again on us in London?

As I was sloshing home on the slippery stones of the churchyard where my parents are interred I saw the snails out in force.

Once home and telling of my sightings hubs told me I should gather them, feed them on cornmeal and then eat them with garlicky butter.  Not for me thank you!

I watched as the four of them blazed slimy trails in ways only snails know how.

Their movements are almost imperceptible, I wonder they leave the sanctuary of the tall grass for the open space of a paved pathway heavily trodden by the likes of me.  But then tall grasses can have their perils too, shears, lawn mower or worm seeking blackbird.


All lives are fragile.


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