Two bags were ripped open and a vast amount of gravel laid down. There's a lot more to do of course but not today. As I was bending and scattering tons of rocks, a bird sang at the top of someone's tree and feeling the need for the heavenly things in life, I stopped momentarily so as to concentrate on its perfect tone.
As the repetitive song split through the greenery I was taken away from the membrane and stones, taken way up into the tree where this little yellow bird sat, and for a few seconds the little bird and me were the only ones in the garden.Then, as the bird did encore after encore, I flew down and the empty dusty gravel bags flapped like applauding hands in the cool breeze.
I thought two hours of unladylike work were enough so after looking at the stony patch from several directions I came in to bake a box of faggots.

^_^