Shocking, I know. We have lived here for three years almost, and we have never gone berry-picking before. But a friend invited us to her house to pick cranberries in their backyard and we said yes.
I envisioned a bear-free, fenced-in yard. But up in the hills of Eagle River, the chances are unlikely that the yard will be either. So we tromped through lovely foliage, thick and wild and ungroomed, and found two big cups full of cranberries.
Berry-picking makes us happy, I found out. The boys got bored after a short while, but Zoya and I very much enjoyed looking deeply at the nature around us. We looked more closely at each plant, each tree, the ground under each step we took, than we otherwise do.
And there on the inside wall of our cup was the tiniest snail I had ever seen.
My husband mocked me when I told him about it. He said, "Was it 'so cute'?"
"Why yes! It was the cutest snail ever," I replied. He knows I have a thing for snails. Once, in a rain storm, I moved every one of the dozens of snails from my driveway to the wall of the house because I couldn't stand the idea of a car crushing any of them. (I was pregnant with Noah at the time, which could have explained my emotional state, but I have retained a love of snails ever since.)
This particular snail was the size of the tip of the pencil, but sure enough, it had a slimy bottom and a little corkscrew shell, and it was making its way slowly but surely up the inside of the cup.
By the time we got the berries home, the snail was gone! Who knows where the little fella escaped to, but I'm sure he's sliming it up like crazy, hightailing it back to his favorite cranberry bush.
In the meantime, I have since enjoyed a bowl of oatmeal with fresh cranberries and some sugar.
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