The spring is nigh. The day is gorgeous. And so we went down to the garden wielding a pick and a hoe. After nearly two decades of neglect, it is time to turn the soil. We did not last long, for neither of us has the right kind of muscles for gardening, but we made our mark. Looking down from the terrace wall, we are delighting in our endeavor. “Tomorrow we will be back,” I smile to my beloved. She grins and nods. But neither of us has any idea what to do once we are finished with the pick and hoe.