Jed Wolf

Before my friend Shirlee linked me to the Wikipedia article below, I thought among other things, I’d discovered something akin to a Rosetta Stone. I knew how exactly how Leonardo must have felt upon sketching his first Vitruvian Man. No matter how I carved, packed or shaped it, the sand in the pond I’d been digging came to rest (slumped) at the most comfortable angle – that of a lounging, semi-retired Floridian. When I mentioned this, Shirlee sent me this.

“The ANGLE OF REPOSE of a granular material is the steepest angle of descent or dip relative to the horizontal plane to which a material can be piled without slumping…”

Whatever. Little did she know the Angel who guides my shovel, who wears out my body by day, then mind by night, also lead me to unearth the precise location of the genuine Fountain of Youth, or “Roof,” as Dave calls it. Whatever! Unlike the tacky one in town, the grotto on my way to my compost pile will feature a vernal pool, where roof water will gush during rain and a glisten of age-defying artesian well water will comfort moss and fern and otherwise top off my pond.

“A fifteen foot gravel bed rushing exuberantly with rainwater during periodic downpours will need a footbridge with a slight bow where newlyweds can have their pictures taken,” I thought while singing “New York, New York” today at nursing home. Rather than “vagabond shoes,” after this gloomy week, as the sun finally burst through the facility’s Atrium windows, I imagined intimidatingly beautiful egrets posing in my pond’s shallows.

I raced home as the temperature soared, threw on my mucky clothes and was tempted to lay within it to test my theory, in angelic repose, but I’m not that crazy.