the lost man chronicles
merciless beauty .66

Toiling for about four hours during the sultry Sunday afternoon, I cut a pathway in the lawn and transferred remnants of her green carpet across the yard. At 90 degrees with 95% humidity, it was sweltering, and being a man, I was fortunate enough to feel free to work practically naked with just a pair of cotton shorts, socks and work boots on.

The sweat dripped profusely, enough to moisten the ground and soften the penetration of my spade. It felt good to place my heel at the top of the blade and drive the shovel with an earnest thrust into mother earth. The diagonal drive downward was smooth, and each time made me feel more manly.

Each plateful of dirt and grass weighed about five pounds, and since I had to dig down, up, and out 20 sections for every pathstone, which each weighed in at 20 pounds, I must have lifted a good 500 pounds while soaking in the sun. 500 pounds up, and 500 pounds down. A ton altogether.

That's a bit of a hefty load that one might say is also a bit of an assessed stretch of stress. Yet, I would argue that we discount the substantial stretching of one's muscles in the opposite direction all too readily, for what goes up must also come down.

When the sky began to overheat, bloat and perspire herself, I welcomed her precipitation and continued to gleefully work as she drenched me with her sweet rain. Refreshing. Reinvigorating. Renewing. Water truly is a source of life.

An hour later that evening after my second shower (with soap this time), I dined at a local trattoria.

The food, yet another source of life, along with the two or three full glasses of lemon-ice water, was wonderful. Yet, even more glorious was the awesome sight witnessed upon exiting the eatery.

Blue mountains skirted with wide folds of grey and pink threshed cotton blankets painted the sky with merciless beauty.

It sincerely felt as if I were standing below an enormous canvas in the museum of heaven on earth. And I was blessed enough to partake in the purview.

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