Stepping into the Mulch

I planted the trimmed wooden stem upright into the cedar chips to brace my balance. Leaning over the concrete curb, I swung my right leg down. The mulch shifted slightly with a dry crunch before packing tight under my boot. Once both feet were down, I surveyed the route ahead. A broad, weathered river stone lay half a dozen paces out, rising like a flat island above the wood chips. Using the stem to probe the loose pockets between overlapping bark flakes, I took steady, measured strides across the bed until both boots met the solid surface of the stone.