The clouds burned off unexpectedly and quickly on Wednesday afternoon, revealing a sun so warm the temperature hit 75 degrees, a heat we haven’t felt since last fall. Seattleites came out of their homes and offices in droves. We were bleary eyed and dreamy. It’s what happens after we’ve been through a particularly long slog of rain and this year has been truly epic:
Oh yeah, we have had enough.
By coincidence, the evening before, I’d been looking for a poem from a page of one of my new reads, The Sound of a Wild Snail Eating by Elisabeth Tova Bailey, which I picked up last weekend at Magnolia’s Bookstore during Seattle Bookstore Day. The title is what pulled me in. Isn’t it a wonderful title? I’m about one-third of the way through and I’m as captivated by the life of her snail as she was. They are remarkably resilient creatures, often able to rebuild their shells even if some clumsy or misguided human crushes them into pieces on a sidewalk.
There was a rather large snail crawling up the side of our house last month. I observed it for a couple days, but it went nowhere. I finally plucked it off the wall and set it back in the garden, hopeful it would be OK. In Tova’s book, I learned snails can store water in their mantles. (I’m not sure if I’m correct, but I believe the mantle is the area between their bodies and shells.) I’m hopeful “my” snail had a good store of water.
Here’s the poem I found that got me dreaming of more than just one afternoon of sun. It got me dreaming of summer.