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Wednesday, July 16, 2008 3:30 a.m. -- Wandering blearily into bathroom. Drawing shades, peering sleepily through window. Outside, one lone star -- bright and sharp -- hangs low in the southern sky, a diminutive nightlight hovering above the small barn across the yard. In the yard, between house and barn, soft spots of light glide through early morning darkness, the air quietly alive with fireflies cruising for love. 10:30 a.m. -- Climbing the first long uphill incline of East State Street in Montpelier, retaining wall to my right, a strip of long grass between sidewalk and wall. Morning sunlight reveals faint, dried traces of slug trails on the walkway, near the grass -- a looping, whimsical network of curving lines, barely visible, glittering faintly. Looking more like slowly vanishing fairy trails than the residue of gastropods, snails who lost their mobile homes somewhere along their evolutionary journey. España, te echo de menos rws 9:22 PM [+]
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