Tendrils of mist rise from the former pasture. They dance briefly in the sunlight over the tall grass moving in the wafting breeze before nothingness overcomes them. Sunlight dances in droplets of dew on the tips of leaves before becoming a diamond like rain drop. The handle of my hoe, stained by three generations of labor, warms slowly in my hands. The blade of the hoe plays hot knife to the soil’s butter, darting about the peas and peppers deftly from years of practice. The dogs, on guard for the evil that are squirrels, sit alertly, ears flicking at every chirp and trill coming from the lilac bush. The mosquito’s drawn to my exhaling, whine annoyingly around my hat and ears. The sun warms the shirt on my back as the heat of the day rises alongside it. Small pleasures all. Taken together in the garden, with a cup of coffee, make a good start to the day.
