“You’re an artEEEst, honey. A stone artEEEst.” I stood, taking a break from digging and moving stones and watched him work. “See, ya move this one and then ya wedge this one. OK, now I need a smaller one for this spot. Yeah. This looks good. Sturdy. Good.” I watched and listened as he narrated his own process.
We had spend the morning chopping and stacking firewood thanks to a free logs from a neighbor. The warm spring sunshine begged us to stay outside. A summer 2020 fence project destroyed a small stone wall. Stones were scattered and some were buried. Last summer, we watched as a pumpkin plant grew and added another layer of hidden to those stones. Hosta grew and prettied up the mess. The broken stone wall no longer yelled for attention. The start of the 2020-2021 school year brought enough distraction that a rarely noticed the scattered stones, now surrounded by weeds.
The longer days of spring 2021, seemed to shine light right on that sloppy mess. The stones lay there, shining, waiting for us. Then, this past Sunday, Billy got his artist on, I was ready to lend my vision, my artists eye, and we were both ready for some manual labor.
Together, we uncovered, moved, wedged, stone upon stone until before our very eyes, a masterpiece of a wall appeared.
This morning, as I ate breakfast, I admired our work, our creation. I began to imagine the possibilities the bed bed that our stone wall frames.