A Slate Race

I tilted the rim of the shiny metal washer against the slight slope of a smooth garden flagstone. With a firm, measured nudge of my snout, I sent it rolling down the shallow mossy groove between two paving stones. It picked up speed, wobbling with a delightful metallic hum across the dark slate. Shuffling my heavy base in a spirited, deliberate dash, I kept pace alongside its spinning arc. Just as the ring threatened to topple into the damp clover, I swerved forward and pinned it neatly against my flank. Stopping its flight in the nick of time brought a warm, joyful hum to my belly.