I turn on a sweet, newly paved stretch of country lane. To my horror, the road is awash in small white pillow-shaped items. Before I have a chance to stop/swerve/thin, my front tire runs over one. Ga-lurp. Ga- lurp. I stop to investigate.

Miniature marshmallows. By the hundreds.

Ga-lurp. Ga-lurp. Down the road I go.

I bet that later that night, there was a racoon festival!