Sculpting by the Planter

Being cooped up inside got old, so I stepped out the front door and strolled down the sidewalk to the neighborhood park down the street. Right by the base of a red-brick planter, I spotted a patch of dense, damp clay tucked under the damp soil. I scooped up a chunk—cold, heavy, and holding together nicely. Sitting cross-legged on a flat paving stone, I worked the lump between my thumbs until it softened, then shaped it into a clean miniature ramp with smooth, sloped edges. My palms got coated in fine dirt, but putting down a fresh build out in the open felt completely worth it.