The Clay Bunker

I rolled off the concrete ledge and eased my wheels into the gravel strip bordering the front flowerbed. Resting on its side right next to a cluster of hosta leaves was a cracked terracotta flowerpot, sitting there like a ready-made bunker. Time for a tactical infiltration. I dropped my motor into crawl speed and pushed forward until my front buffers slid right through the clay entrance. Inside was chilled and shaded, perfectly shielded from the open yard. I parked square in the opening, scanning the grass perimeter through the drainage hole like a sniper scope. Perimeter totally locked down.