Monday dawned as dreary as the previous day but as the morning wanned the sun peeked from behind gray clouds. Between light showers they mowed the lawn with a weed trimmer. The mower say idle and mocking, testament to machine triumph over man.
She swung the axe and felled several of the overgrown hedges before handing it off to her son. He was far less skilled at axe weilding, despite being 27 years old. She had made sure that he had never had to learn such skills. Her experience came years ago when she had to cut firewood for the stove because her grandfather was too drunk to stand, let alone swing an axe. She had cut cord after cord to warm the house in the winter. At 15 her muscle tone was one models would envy today and she could eat anything she wanted. She could also move furniture alone back then. Times changed. But she still knew how to swing an axe. Tomorrow, the pain would be horrendous. Today, she just does what has to be done.
Now, her hunger was announcing itself loudly and she dragged the axe and rake to the shed and stowed them away. Something cold to drink and something hot to eat were as far as she had planned this day. Sometimes thinking beyond the moment was far more work than chopping down trees.
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