We were walking through the southwest corridor the other day.
“It’s almost that time of year” I said.
She brightened up immediately.
It was a mild winter, who are we to complain? Yet no matter how mild, it was still too harsh for her micro-invertebrates.
At one point she happened upon a snail graveyard. At least a hundred shells, broken and picked apart by the birds.
The circle of life.
“it won’t be long.” I tell her. “it’s almost spring, all it’ll take is a good rain I think.”
Today is her birthday.
I hope she gets snails.