A Cleared Path

A fallen cedar branch was lying right across the narrow garden path, its stiff twigs catching on every passing breeze. I approached and examined its fork, finding a sturdy point to take hold. Bracing my slippers against the rough pea gravel, I leaned my weight back and pulled with steady, deliberate force. The needles scraped with a crisp rustle across the stones as the heavy limb pivoted smoothly aside, settling neatly against the mossy border. With the gray walkway open and clear once more, I brushed the loose bark from my hands in quiet satisfaction.