As I walked the path to the upper falls I passed through an area littered with bleached shells, the remains of an untold number of land snails.
Then something caught my attention. Clinging to a mesquite branch, a snail, a shell?
and then another
and another appeared.
Have they climbed skyward to quench their thirst in the cool morning autumn mist
or have they stayed too long and lost their lives in the heat of an unusally hot December sun.
Triumph or demise, I will never know . . .