DEPENDING ON THE DAY, hour or moment, I describe myself as either late-stage middle-aged or early-onset elderly. So, here, somewhere in my golden, waning days, I approach lifting heavy things much differently than I did when I might have been described as young, dumb and full of, uh, an utter lack of wisdom.
Most of the hard work building my garden was done when I was in my 30s and 40s. We had no extra money, but I had a big vision and a ton of energy and I spent many a weekend, usually in the rain in the dead of winter, appropriating rocks from muddy, rutted construction sites and bringing them home to become winding walls and the sculpting bones of garden beds. Truckload after truckload, hour after hour…