Iron and Stone

I crossed the threshold of the open sliding door and marched out toward the balcony edge. Past vigilance kept me inside too long. Within a weathered terracotta planter box, a rusted garden trowel stood upright in compacted soil, surrounded by slate pebbles. I approached steadily, planted my sandals into the earth, and placed a gauntlet upon the cold iron blade. It was thick, forged with rough edges, and anchored deep against the wind. I selected a smooth, flat piece of dark slate from the dirt and wedged it firmly at the base of the handle, reinforcing the structure. The outer post holds.