I was dashing from the mail box back to my door in the pouring rain when I saw it, a lone snail on the black top, smack dab in the middle of the drive.  It retreated quickly into its shell when I plucked it up with my fingers and carried it to safety setting it gently on the sidewalk where I’ve seen snails come and go before.

Would I have been so chivalrous a year ago?  I’m not sure.  But ever since I read Elisabeth Tova Bailey’s book, The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating, I notice these creatures.

Books change us.


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