A Lever on the Slate

A dry sycamore leaf, curled like an inverted canoe, beckoned from the edge of the stone steps... far too temptingly angled to simply bypass. Descending from the terracotta rim, I discovered an empty, ridged snail shell resting in the mulch. A lesser traveler might walk around; an inquisitive mind, naturally, constructs a seesaw. Using a sturdy flat wooden ice-cream paddle wedged in the soil, I coaxed the curved shell beneath its flank with the toe of my boot. With a measured stomp on the raised end, the dried leaf flitted into the air, landing neatly upright inside a crevice between the flagstones. A grand elevation, undeniably theatrical.