Black is the New Orange

I vow on a stack of hymnals this is the final time I will ever mention mu---ooms, but (look hard) here was such a miniscule living gem of a snail, exquisite as a diamond, tender as a rice noodle, discovered while I was wiping bits of dirt from a pound of fresh-picked chanterelles, and it too was the answer to my question: Who besides box turtles and pin-sized maggots chews up the Divine Property's mother lode of chanterelle mu---ooms before I find and get a hold of them?

Jelly-Bellied Friends Part 2

To kill slugs in your garden, put out a pan of beer. Slugs are not churchgoers, so even on Sundays they will belly up to the rim, drink, and die. Told that to a friend who remembered a steamy Sunday in 1954 when his beer-drunk uncle fell into the thorn bushes, had a heart attack, and died. I said, “Gross.” He said, No, it was the way everybody should go, doin’ what they liked.

Jelly-Bellied Friends

I think spring rains water not only plants but snail seeds. Because when it rains, garden snails pop up full grown everywhere, walkin' around like they own the place. Up in the woods even at my Ozark foothills' highest elevations (about 880 feet) I still always have that moment of wonder when I see abandoned snail shells, whitened down bone-like, or sometimes polished down to a fragile brown translucency, with iridescence. "Shells? Up here?"

Picked up an attractive volunteer snail and put it on a dinner plate to pose for me. Actually I tricked it, saying George Clooney was looking for extras for his next movie. It handled this very well.