Gravel: Buy Pea

By afternoon, he was ready for the gravel. He loaded a wheelbarrow, pushed it to the start of the path, and began to spread the stones. He used a rake to smooth them out, creating a even layer.

His wife, Clara, had loved the idea of a gravel path winding through the garden. She had clipped pictures from magazines and talked about the crunching sound the stones would make underfoot. She had been gone for two years now, and the garden had grown wild and tangled. buy pea gravel

Arthur walked down the porch steps and approached the pile. He reached down and picked up a handful of the stones. They were small and smooth, like tiny river pebbles. He let them slip through his fingers, listening to the soft, clicking sound they made as they fell back onto the pile. By afternoon, he was ready for the gravel

The heap of pea gravel sat in the center of the driveway, a mound of gray and tan stones that caught the morning light. Arthur stood on his porch, a mug of coffee warming his hands, and looked at it. It was the first step in a project he had been putting off for months. His wife, Clara, had loved the idea of

The work was slow and rhythmic. Load, push, dump, rake. Arthur lost track of time as he worked. The sun moved across the sky, and the air began to cool.

He spent the morning clearing the path. He pulled up weeds, dug out old roots, and leveled the earth. It was hard, physical work, and his muscles soon began to ache. But it felt good to use his hands, to do something tangible.

As he reached the end of the path, near the old oak tree where Clara used to sit, he stopped. He looked back at what he had accomplished. The path was beautiful. The light gray stones stood out against the dark earth and the green of the garden. He took a step onto the path. Crunch.