I’d like to know what this little snail is searching for.  Perhaps a leafy bed to lie in?  Or maybe some petals to snack on?  Might it simply like the color blue?

I’m fortunate that snails aren’t much of a problem in my garden.  They’re in the garden, but not damaging.  The trundle along, slow and steady, and quiet.

Except when I step on one.  Snails aren’t quiet when I accidentally step on one.


I feel badly when that happens and apologize. I suppose that’s a hollow gesture.

Possibly, curiosity drives this one to search.  It halted progress downward as I approached, wiggling its antennae, sniffing its surroundings.

Do antennae smell scents?  Apparently, they do.  As well, snails use antennae for movement and orientation, and sometimes, for sight.  Useful things.

I hope the snail climbed out, made its way down the bottle tree, and relocated itself to flatter ground before our recent rains.  I haven’t seen it since I snapped this photo, but would I know this snail–irrespective of size–from any other?

Probably not.

If you’re searching for something fun, interesting, or beautiful, check out Anna’s Flutter and Hum for Wednesday Vignette musings.  



I was adjusting the blinds at one of my front windows, when I stopped to appreciate, then photograph, this late afternoon, late winter scene.

The ceramic container holding the American century plantAgave americana, is hugged by a cushion of poppy greenery.  I should have thinned the seedlings long ago, but their verdant green beguiles, enchants the gardener, and therefore remain.  As the weeks pass and the days lengthen and warm, the poppy stalks will grow to at least 18 inches in height, eventually topped by scarlet blooms, with plenty of pollinators in attendance.

Just behind, Big muhly grass, Muhlenbergia lindheimeri, acts as a halo, fanning out  gracefully, late day sunshine highlighting leaf and panicle which are toasty at the upper ends, spring green near the bottom.  That green indicates the time to prune in nigh;  I’ll trim all of my grasses in the next week–the last of my winter pruning–in preparation for new growth, a new season.  Of course in nature, these grasses aren’t pruned by anyone, they simply continue:  brown-to-tan leaf structure sloughing off, its work done, making way for the new, the green–a process practiced and followed, year in and year out.  

An evergreen Barbados cherryMalpighia glabra, barely visible behind the muhly, echos fresh green growth, its dense cluster of foliage perfect for wildlife cover. Garnishing the scene and in the far distance, a neighbor’s Live oak tree, foliage intact, towers over all.

For more garden scenes, vignettes, thoughts, see Anna’s Flutter and Hum and her Wednesday Vignettes.