A Garden Stamp

Leaving the flowerbed behind, I strolled over to the open wooden shed beside the garden plot. Propped flat on the low potting bench was a wide red ink stamping pad left without its cover, beside an old wooden hand stamp carved with a leaf motif. I pressed my palm against the cool, splintered bench top to balance myself, then took the rounded wooden handle with both hands. Lowering the stamp gently into the crimson sponge, I brought it down firmly onto a stray slip of clean brown paper. Lifting it up with a slow breath, I smiled at the crisp, patterned veins stamped boldly across the page.