Giving Thanks

We sprang out of bed at the crack of dawn. The ground was a little frosty and our breath made clouds of vapour around us. We wore fleece and gloves. These would be shed within the hour as the work got tough and the sun got higher.

I had taken a week off from running in preparation for this day so that my strangely sore back would not preclude me from participating and the rest paid off. I felt strong, lifing heavy rolls of sod from the wheelbarrow and unrolling them smartly on the ground.

Four hours later our bog has become a real, actual lawn. My back hurts again but it all seems worthwhile. The yard, Shawn said exuberantly, has been sodomized.

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