“It began to hail mid-afternoon, tiny ice chunks bouncing off the truck bed, but still no real deluge, so I continued working. The worst part of the job, removing entrenched native daylilies, was over. I was sure they would live again, in their new location, but no longer would they dominate the small perennial bed. Hauling off material is perhaps the most odious task I face, on any day, cold or hot. It’s why I coined the name “Digger” to myself, as a kind of joke aimed at my crew. People do tend to look for others, when a massive overhaul is required. And I don’t shy away from major renovations. My life has demanded this of me, going on decades now, so I’ve learned to put my shoulder into it, and just get the thing done. If I could share a bit of advice to anyone, it would be to not look back. There will be plenty of time for that, in life review, in one believes that dying is more about review than remorse. Let’s assume you did the best you could, given the conditions you were dealt. I look out and around me, every day, and professionally speaking, have to cull and shape. There is nothing wrong with this process. We operate according to our inner voice, which tells us the difference, between right and wrong. Be it a plant placed in an impossible position, or a relationship that had out-smarted our capability to manage it. It’s okay to call “Uncle”, if you know what I mean. It’s a good call, to retreat, and remove and go fallow, when the environment in which we are surviving goes beyond our means to understand it or tolerate it. No one has the right to stagnate our impulse, to grow and change. The day I had today, was mine alone to curate. And I was willing, and energetic enough, to envision something more to my liking, and more aligned with my peaceful intent. The usual parameters imposed their usual triggers, towards self-doubt and failure, but I assigned myself an opposing agenda. That’s fine. Looking up to the sky, and the clouds, and then down to the river, and its reassuring flow, then into the dirt, and then over to my bucket, I felt grounded. We’re not in a pristine world. However, the job is to make inroads, and corrections, as we stumble thru life. I try to make time to assess the nature of my purview. So much information; so little time. But what is time? Maybe only a whip at our heels. But, whose whip? I worked as long as I could, with rain coming down, not heavily, but influencing the way my tools were able to perform. Okay, not a terrible day, but one of those that throws up questions, and suggestions. I went out of my way to stop in at one “convenience” store, that still operates at the edge of the wilderness. The cashier had the same impassive attitude, and I found myself in the middle of a discussion about hunting, while I roamed the isles. I looked for something additional, that might make my life easier, or my dinner more palatable. Mostly, I didn’t find anything. But the respite of walking into a small, owner-run store, calmed me. I was so appreciative, after a day of digging, to have a place to pick up the newspaper, and a can of cider. That’s me, and I make such a tiny impact. It’s a role I relish, and one that moves mountains, in my dream time.”
