Gemotions

The surveyor's flag, a bright orange beacon, had already been planted. The thought of a new fence, right on the border of my garden, initially sparked a flicker of irritation. I usually had so much to say about these things.

But the day was beautiful. The air smelled of freshly cut grass, and the sky was a perfect blue. I stretched out on the hammock, the gentle swaying a hypnotic rhythm.

Later, the construction crew arrived. I watched them, from my position, as they began to erect the posts. The sounds of their work blended with the birdsong. I felt no urge to interfere, no desire to interfere.