The Emerald Labyrinth

A direct line across the patio flagstones is hopelessly lacking in drama, wouldn't you say? Leaving the sundial behind, I set my sights upon a heavy green garden hose coiled in lazy, concentric rings across the warm slate. Rather than skirting the obstacle, I treated the thick rubber curves as a winding aerial causeway. Balancing along the narrow, slick crest in my heeled boots required exquisite poise; each step yielded with a quiet, springy dip that sent my headdress bells into a rhythmic sway. Round and round I danced through the spiral, ignoring the flat ground entirely, until I stood victorious atop the heavy brass nozzle curled in the very center.