Day 40 -- Snail Trail

Even if this snail is already ready for mushroom hunting, 

I will beat it to the morels.

I knit the top of the body of a snail today. This snail-to-be is dedicated to Christina Campbell, who gave me, The Song of a Wild Snail Eating, by Elisabeth Tova Bailey.

Even if you don't give a rip about snails, you're likely to develop a deeper appreciation for them after reading this author's account of living with her debilitating disease while serendipitously finding comfort through the companionship of a snail. Brought in to her recovery room on a houseplant, you'll learn fascinating facts about these creatures, and that they have personality, too.



The Snail
William Cowper, 1731 - 1800

 To grass, or leaf, or fruit, or wall,
The snail sticks close, nor fears to fall,
As if he grew there, house and all
                                                Together.

Within that house secure he hides,
When danger imminent betides
Of storm, or other harm besides
                                                Of weather.

Give but his horns the slightest touch,
His self-collecting power is such,
He shrinks into his house, with much
                                                Displeasure.

Where’er he dwells, he dwells alone,
Except himself has chattels none,
Well satisfied to be his own
                                                Whole treasure.

Thus, hermit-like, his life he leads,
Nor partner of his banquet needs,
And if he meets one, only feeds
                                                The faster.

Who seeks him must be worse than blind,
(He and his house are so combin’d)
If, finding it, he fails to find
                                                Its master.