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September 3, 2001
Laborious Days
Not working is one of those things that makes Humans different. We’ve accrued leisure enough to skew our schedules. The End-of-Summer Holiday marks the passing of an indolent season for some, but I’ve been working overtime; too pressed to write much, or even visit the Arboretum with the frequency I’d wish.So it was nice to take a break, enjoying the hospitality of DMTree matriarch Jeanne, while all around Summer culminates in nuts and fruits, and a few early withered leaves, the cost of August’s week of heat, which averaged out an otherwise mild Summer.
But how can I divine from the recliner the effort that the Pokeweed must expend to turn its berries purple? Do they ripen for the purpose of the south-bound birds, or do the birds delay on their behalf? Do I rise at dawn, or sleep into the sun? Do we work to purchase leisure, or rest but grudgingly and from necessity?
We work to live.
Mere existence entails incalculable effort. Leisure requires more than that. So we honor laborers by resting, rather than by having everyone else pitch in. The lilies of the field have toiled all Summer, and gone to seed will make a working-man’s bouquet.