Today is another test. Whiners don't last. A certain fortitude is mandatory. And even blackened trees and choking smoke sport a thin aura of romance, of tarnished glory. The planting ground is pure drudgery.
Seedlings are crueler than fire.
If Dusty sucks gnats on this third day without complaint, my respect will be confirmed. At this point, he may not give a damn for my regard. Or maybe he does. An hour later we're done. Our faces are smeared with mud from swatting at particularly vicious gnats, the ones that lust for your eyes.