Thirteen loppers, 11 clippers, 10 root slayers, five little shovels. Four hundred harvested and supplied willow stakes, 116 potted plants laid out by the maintenance contractor. One snake skin, three copies of The Serviceberry, four steady goat feet. 105 Scirpus microcarpus, an unspecified number of harvested willow whips, an uncountable blanket of red cedar seedlings huddled under tiny rectangular skylights. Two fleeting moments of rain, so light it barely whispered. Three hours well spent.
Steady rain. Muddy earth. Thank you.
U.S. Navy Reserve members from all over join us. The large branch of a horse chestnut tree comes down, taking two folding handsaws with it. Baby conifers uncovered, trash exhumed. So many gifts, so much grace.
On the precipice. All together now.
Small and mighty.
Do snakes grieve for the selves they shed? If you could hold anything at all in a bottle, what would it be?
Light rain. Bird nest. Conversation and companionship.
