Still, the perversity of snails! They squander labour in the leaves And soon the thrushes find their trails For on each lengthy inch of road Slime follows them till death arrives. From Speech in the Desert by Dom Moraes
Now that the rains are here, the snails are everywhere. Yesterday I found one on the mossy ledge. How did it climb up so high where there was no sign of food? Or did it climb only to become food for the birds? The sky was overcast and the afternoon was like dusk in a hurry to be there before its time. This morning there was no sign of the ledge snail. Perhaps the rain lashed it away to the other side of the wall or the road. Or perhaps it was trod on by a foot that was trying to manoeuvre a murky, muddy, slushy stretch of no-road. Or maybe a car crushed it to smithereens, the shell--glasslike lying in little bits that might catch the rays of the sun at first light.
Glory be to God for dappled things- For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow; For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim; Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches' wings; Landscape plotted and pieced--fold, fallow, and plough; And all trades, their gear and tackle and trim. All things counter, original, spare, strange; Whatever is fickle, freckled (who knows how?) With swift, slow; sweet, sour; adazzle, dim; He fathers-forth whose beauty is past change: Praise him. Gerard Manley Hopkins
The first flowering shrub I planted on our land
Every flower is a soul blooming in Nature.-Gerard De Nerval
Shall I not have intelligence with the earth? Am I not partly leaves and vegetable mould myself? -Henry David Thoreau