Holding the Gate

I pushed past the front screen door and marched down the asphalt drive. Near the mailbox post, a metal sprinkler head was pulsing erratic sprays across the pathway, threatening an orderly column of tiny garden snails heading for the damp mulch. I found a heavy, discarded plastic plant tag lodged in the gravel. Dragging it across the pavement, I hoisted the angled plastic sheet upright and wedged its stake into a hairline crack in the concrete directly in front of the spray. The plastic bowed under the hammering drops, but it held firm. A steady dry corridor opened, allowing the snails to cross without disruption.