A Ring of Cedar Bark

I stepped off the terracotta shard into the morning soil beneath the bench. Dew clung to the lawn beyond, but under the wood, the earth was dry and loose. Rather than marching forward, I turned my attention to establishing order here. Scattered chunks of coarse cedar mulch lay spread near the iron leg. I picked up three curved pieces, their rough bark fragrant and firm in my grip, and arranged them end-to-end to form a neat, closed perimeter in the dirt. Planting my boots squarely in the center, I looked out toward the garden edge. The camp is set.