With a Trowel in my Hand. We have had two nearly perfect Spring days in a row, and I have devoted a substantial portion of each of them to raking, hauling, and otherwise preparing the landscape for the months to come. It was wonderful. I woke up this morning with a sweet ache in long-forgotten muscles and with a growing gratitude because I can still indulge in the luxury of manual labor. And so I composed a prayer for spring: Dear Lord, if its not too much to ask, please grant me as many springs as possible. And, when I die, please let them find me surrounded by flowers with a trowel in my hand.
Posted on: Fri, 11 Apr 2014 13:12:10 +0000
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