There’s something bucolic about snails. Often depicted darling in children’s literature and artwork, snails are usually portrayed as positive thematic characters in toddlers’ pillows and young ones’ stuffed toys. Snails are cute: silly looking and alien-like, seemingly unobtrusive and retiring, in most humans they don’t arouse fear (like honeybees) or disgust (like rats). Maybe it’s the Fibonacci-like swirl of their shells–graceful and elegant–that appeals. Perhaps it’s the quirky, squishy body and wiggly antennae, alert and upright, searching, almost comedic, that gives the creatures great charm.
A few posts back, I commented that snails are in my garden, never causing much damage, just oozing along, mostly minding their own business. I regretted the times I’ve accidentally crushed them.
Not long after that post, I caught this one sipping from the open blossom of a Spiderwort. It looks kind of sweet, doesn’t it? A crafty sort could use the scene as a needlepoint subject or embroidery project.
Was this little garden creature sipping the morning dew? Or was it eating the blossom?
Oh dear, that might change the dynamics for the plant. Turns out, snails are causing some damage in my garden this spring.
My unknown variety of amaryllis, the bulbs given to me long ago by my mother, have been the dining choice of at least one of these slimy beasts.
Nasty varmint! (Note the change in tone toward the snail.) There it is, snug in its corner booth, chowing down on my flower!
The cluster of open blooms is functioning, they’ve all opened up, as they will in spring, then snails moved in and did what snails do–eat, eat, poop. Sigh.
The amaryllis only bloom once–now–and won’t again until next year. I’ve railed against the snails, called them bad names, and fantasized about squishing the lot of them. In the end, I should have noticed their activities and acted more quickly. After all, it’s not like I’m gone from the house much these days.
It’s done and no use in crying over munched petals; there are certainly more important considerations in the world, and even in my garden. It’s a good lesson for me and no doubt, one that I will learn again, in a different situation. For now, I need to find my hiking boots and, um, get to work.
Joining with Anna’s Wednesday Vignette. Pop over to her lovely Flutter and Hum and check out garden happenings elsewhere.