Seilide

To grass, or leaf, or fruit, or wall,
The snail sticks close, nor fears to fall,
As if he grew there, house and all
Together.
Within that house secure he hides,
When danger imminent betides
Of storm, or other harm besides
Of weather.
Give but his horns the slightest touch,
His self-collecting power is such
He shrinks into his house with much
Displeasure.
Where'er he dwells, he dwells alone,
Except himself has chattels none,
Well satisfied to be his own
Whole treasure.
Thus hermit-like, his life he leads,
Nor partner of his banquet needs,
And if he meets one only feeds
The faster.
Who seeks him must be worse than blind,
(He and his house are so combined,)
If, finding it, he fails to find
Its master.

William Cowper 1731

A horrible morning, rain and more rain, and this teeny snail was gliding up the window inside the conservatory. He has since gone on his holiday. His teeny friend remained.
It's Baltimore Fiddle Fair weekend and we are out and about so excuse lack of comments. Tonight we're off to see Julie Fowlis from Uist, and she's supported by two fiddlers from Nova Scotia. Looking forward to it.