Perfect midwinter day on Long Island. Bright cloudless sky, no wind, not cold at all. After ten minutes digging, I’m down to shirt sleeves. Heavy yellow clay under the topsoil, big round stones.

Wife: “Take it easy. You’re out of condition. I don’t want the next one to be yours.” Soon enough, honey, all too soon.

Goodbye old friend, dear old friend. Thank you for it all — thank you, thank you. Goodbye, goodbye.