A Clean Roll

A swirl-patterned glass marble was resting half-buried in the gravel right beside the garden bed. Heh, you can't just leave a neat little sphere sitting idle. I planted my boots on the packed dirt, hoisted the cool, heavy glass with both hands, and set it squarely in the shallow groove of a curved cedar edging board. Stepping back to square my stance, I leaned forward and gave it a solid, two-handed shove. Whir-rumble-clack! It raced down the wooden track smooth as grease, bouncing clean off a dry pinecone at the far end. Leaning hands on my knees, I let out a hearty chuckle—a straight strike always sets up a good morning.