A Snapping Strip

I pushed past the screen door flap into the garden. Beside the raised wooden planter, a white plastic plant marker stood upright in the damp earth. I paused to survey the thin blade. It was firmly rooted, leaning slightly toward the lawn. I stepped forward and pressed down on the flexible top with my right claw. The strip curved tight under my weight, holding strong tension. I slipped my claw aside. It whipped back with a sharp, vibrating buzz, fluttering back and forth in a pale blur. I waited until the shuddering died down. Then I pressed it flat and released it again, listening to the hum.