Hard work. Its good for the soul

During the first lockdown, before I met T, I stayed with my parents in Pontypridd. My parents have two big allotments. They grow all kinds of fruit, vegetables and flowers. My mother is a wonderful gardener. My father. Well my father likes digging.

Working at the allotment

One evening he was practically rubbing his hands with glee as he informed me “We’ve got lots of hard work to do tomorrow Beck”

The apple hasn’t fallen far from the tree in this case. I like digging too. There is a simple satisfaction to be gained from a little bit of honest toil. A joy to be found in the health and strength of your own body. A pride in what you can achieve through manual labour.

The fruits of our labour

As I write this I am still in bed. Pretty exhausted. Its been a long few days of work. But when I think of everything I have done that sense of satisfaction comes flooding back. It warms me.

Tired but good tired.

On Friday I was flattening the cardboard at the food bank. The day was mild. It was like springtime. I turned my face to the sun. Hard work. Its good for the soul.

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