After grading for most of the day and going to get ice cream, I am finished around 5:00 and go out into my garage. I fill my buckets full of mortar and water and head out to put some touches on my latest wall and to touch up some others. The temperature is just right and the air is still and calm.

I move a small fake fountain from a rock on the spot where I want to work and beneath it is a tiny brown snake. He picks no fight (they never do) but when I try catch him to move him out of my way, he slithers off the rock and under another. We are fine with each other.

I mix the mortar and begin to work. Assembling the rocks is akin to putting a jigsaw puzzle together as the rocks must fit somewhat together. I try out the rock for size, apply the mortar, press the rock into place, and so on and so on. A few cars pass on the road, but otherwise, all is quiet. As I am facing the road, a couple of men wave and I wave back. Jersey the cat joins me for awhile, but as I am absorbed in my work, she leaves because I am not giving her attention.

I put my rock puzzle together and as I do, I tell stories to myself. Some are about me and some are about other people, magical and muggles. Some are about magical creatures. Some are set on distant worlds, some in the past, some in the future, but none in the present.

I finish one task and move to another, enlarging and patching a type of platform on which I might put potted plants or yard ornaments. However, my pagan friends would recognize them immediately as altars. I am atheist, but my paganism still lingers.

It grows dark. I use the last bit of mortar and return my tools to the garage. It is nearly 8:00 PM. For over two hours there are no hungry children in the world, no Covid 19, no racists, no sexism, no school shootings: here are solid rocks, puzzles, and faerie tales.

I hold to the positives and for the moment, all is well.