A Seat on the Slate

The tall blades of grass had left fine green specks across my shins, and my knees welcomed a pause. I sat down squarely on the broad slate paver, extending my legs straight out across the warm, split-edge stone. Leaning back on both palms, I paused to let the sun-baked rock warm the soles of my bare feet. With a measured sweep of my thumb, I dusted away the clinging grass clippings from my ankles, watching them scatter across the dark gray fissure beneath me. From this low, grounded vantage, the open garden felt less like a puzzle to navigate and more like a quiet courtyard.