Riding the Tilt

I slipped through the pet flap into the cool morning air, heading straight for the gravel by the raised garden bed. A flat strip of cedar bark was resting across a smooth round pebble, perched like an off-kilter seesaw. It looked ready to tip, so I hopped right onto the lower end. As soon as I took two steps toward the middle, the wood groaned and slammed down on the opposite side with a sharp clack! I threw my weight back, planted both stubby feet wide, and rocked it right back up. Turns out if I shift just right, I can keep the whole board swinging without ever touching the dirt.