I will make no bones about it. I am struggling with a lot of emotional detritus whirling around like tornadoes with only 5 minutes of warning to announce them. So, knowing myself as I do after over half a century, I was not surprised to find myself out on my hands and knees dealing with one of the more challenging “gardening” tasks today. I put “gardening” in quotes there, because it is possible that what I am calling “gardening” would not qualify as such in most people’s worlds. If “gardening” conjures up images of flowered gloves and little hand tools and sun hats, then we are not talking about the same thing. The “gardening” that I threw myself into today was the kind of thing that some people might hire a “Mexican” to do or a machine. I got to work taking away a section of stone garden wall in order to turn that section into a bottom step of a new path running up through a former flower bed. I moved the allium bulbs, now that they are done blooming. I pulled out some expendable flowers also. But it was at the bottom of the walkway, where I turned my attention to a wild rose bush just at the end of bloom that I really expended some energy. I had let it flourish for two summers there in the grass below the garden, but now it was starting to truly get out of control. It was encouraging other plants to go crazy too, because who could mow anywhere near the prickly rose bush? I admired it for a minute, and then got to work lopping off all its branches and then next digging out its root system. After some shovel jumping, and worry about breaking the shovel as I used it to pry the roots up, I ended up down on hands and knees pulling with all my remaining might to get the root system free of the earth. You may be able to see above the 3 foot long root that slowly came away from the ground. I felt triumphant. A good feeling on a day that otherwise seemed to have no clear path or accountability.