Lab
Library
Journal
Shop
Sign in
to keep
Share image
1
158
Adventures in Contentment
·
David Grayson
58
So
I
came
back
to
the
hawthorn
tree,
where
I
sat
down
comfortably
and
stretched
my
legs.
There
is
a
poem
in
stretched
legs--after
hard
digging--but
I
can't
write
it,
though
I
can
feel
it!
I
got
my
bag
and
took
out
a
half
loaf
of
Harriet's
bread.
Breaking
off
big
crude
pieces,
I
ate
it
there
in
the
shade.
How
rarely
we
taste
the
real
taste
of
bread!
We
disguise
it
with
butter,
we
toast
it,
we
eat
it
with
milk
or
fruit.
We
even
soak
it
with
gravy
(here
in
the
country
where
we
aren't
at
all
polite--but
very
comfortable),
so
that
we
never
get
the
downright
delicious
taste
of
the
bread
itself.
I
was
hungry
this
morning
and
I
ate
my
half
loaf
to
the
last
crumb--and
wanted
more.
Then
I
lay
down
for
a
moment
in
the
shade
and
looked
up
into
the
sky
through
the
thin
outer
branches
of
the
hawthorn.
A
turkey
buzzard
was
lazily
circling
cloud-high
above
me:
a
frog
boomed
intermittently
from
the
little
marsh,
and
there
were
bees
at
work
in
the
blossoms.
--I
had
another
drink
at
the
creek
and
went
back
somewhat
reluctantly,
I
confess,
to
the
work.
It
was
hot,
and
the
first
joy
of
effort
had
worn
off.
But
the
ditch
was
to
be
dug
and
I
went
at
it
again.
One
becomes
a
sort
of
machine--unthinking,
mechanical:
and
yet
intense
physical
work,
though
making
no
immediate
impression
on
the
mind,
often
lingers
in
the
consciousness.
I
find
that
sometimes
I
can
remember
and
enjoy
for
long
afterward
every
separate
step
in
a
task.
Marker
Marker
Fine marker
White-out
Fine white-out
Circle
Paint
Unmarker
Hand
Scalpel
Dice
Sieve
Purify
Undo
Redo
Start over
