Uprooting the Earth

The patio was merely the start. Beyond the slate pavers, wild green shoots choked the garden soil. Unacceptable chaos. I marched straight into the coarse dark dirt, boots sinking into the grit. A thick wooden garden marker stood impaled into the earth like an unyielding spike. I gripped its splintered cedar shaft with both hands, locked my knees into the dirt, and tore upward with unrelenting fury. The earth cracked apart. Roots tore free in a burst of dust and soil. The marker snapped from the ground, heavy and vanquished in my grip. My ground now.