A Field Lever

Morning light broke over the yard, so I vacated the iron lantern post to push the perimeter further along the damp lawn. At the foot of the garden bed, a moss-grown brick was wedged awkwardly askew, tilting into the soil. Behind it, a smooth, deep-green glass marble lay trapped under a tangle of creeping ivy. I wasn't leaving such fine salvage behind. I found a sturdy fallen oak twig, wedged the flatter end beneath the brick's rim, and threw my entire weight downward onto the far end. With a sharp scrape of mortar and grit, the brick shifted just enough. I hooked the marble free with my boot and rolled it out onto the grass. Heavy, flawless glass—worth every ounce of leverage.