A few days ago, I was bemoaning the fact that the snails and I were in disagreement over turf. Yesterday afternoon, I saw the pattern all their crawling had left on the terracotta pots that make up my small patio garden.
It doesn't make up for the shredded garden, but it does remind me that there's more going on that I can ever realize, no matter how it looks, or feels for that matter. Everything is everything. The "bad" stuff has a gift in it somewhere. Believing it is the easy part. Sometimes, I just wish I felt it more.