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A combination of jetlag bodyclock
maladjustment, a good night's sleep, and brilliant
morning sun
had me up at 5 o'clock. With
Ozlik (Czech
for jackass) for company, I knew exactly what to do and headed straight for
the back backyard with the
scythe--which I'd first hammered
roughly flat and grinded sharper if not truly sharp, feeling foolishly and
romantically every bit the ancient farmer. I started in with relish, cutting
a broad swath, sensing that by the time I got to the far end several days
hence I would have to
start over again
and I didn't care. It felt deeply satisfying and timeless swinging and sweating
in the silence of early morning sunshine, raking the cuttings into
numerous neat
little piles. It was a peak moment, and though it passed it will always
be there. Hours later I went in and brought Sarah coffee in bed. By afternoon
it clouded over and I was spent. In the
quiet
twilight bedroom I took a long nap, not missing anything and wanting
for nothing, feeling lucky and grateful to be here.
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