The Pilot

My wife, Marlyn, is an avid gardener. As for me, I am the pilot. There are often things needed for the garden, and sometimes I am the one responsible for delivering it. So I ask “where do you want this?”

“Pile it over there.”

“Where do you want that?”

“Pile it over here.”

I am the pilot.

We are retired from the work-a-day world of jobs and careers. Still, a person needs purpose to stay mentally and physically healthy. For Marlyn, that is provided by her garden. She will spend hours upon hours planting, cultivating, transplanting, and watering her garden. That is both her work, and her relaxation.

For me, that purpose comes from tending to the large livestock. These days, that is only the horses. I feed them each day. After they eat, I groom them, brushing their coats, picking the dirt from their hooves. I trim their hooves every month or so. From time to time, I saddle up and take a ride. then, there are the things that many people would consider drudgery. I clean and maintain the horse equipment, the saddles and bridles and other assorted gear. I sweep the aisleway of the barn, and mostly, I scoop up the manure from the stalls and the barnyard.

The repetitive nature of these tasks, brushing, rubbing, oiling, sewing, sweeping, and scooping, puts me into a relaxed state of mind. A large part of it is because I am working within my lifelong passion for horses. The same is true with Marlyn in her garden. Each of us tend to view the work of the other as tedious. I am not so attentive when I’m helping in the garden. Marlyn enjoys a horseback ride, but leaves the preparation and cleanup to me. We have struck a balance in that regard.

So, I practice the zen of scooping poop. When my wheelbarrow is full, I push it up to the garden and announce the delivery to Marlyn.

“Where do you want this?”

“Pile it over there.”

I am the pilot.