Progress

Gritting my teeth, I plunge the shovel’s edge into the unyielding soil. I jump onto the shovel’s spoon, both feet (undoubtedly making a funny picture to my bewildered neighbors, but who cares), putting all my weight to dig that metal in. The sod reluctantly gives in to my prodding, but still as I pull it up, stubbornly clings with its roots to the life-giving earth underneath. I cast it aside recklessly, only intent at getting the job done. Clay and rock become visible, frustrating me. But I don’t give up; I reach for my bag of black gold and prepare the nurturing bed where our sustenance can grow. I may be breathless at the end of fifteen minutes but knowing that in forty-five days we will be biting down on crispy lettuce and cabbages, I decide that it’s all worth it…. until the next backache comes.