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Arthur walked down the porch steps and approached the pile. He reached down and picked up a handful of the stones. They were small and smooth, like tiny river pebbles. He let them slip through his fingers, listening to the soft, clicking sound they made as they fell back onto the pile.

The heap of pea gravel sat in the center of the driveway, a mound of gray and tan stones that caught the morning light. Arthur stood on his porch, a mug of coffee warming his hands, and looked at it. It was the first step in a project he had been putting off for months. buy pea gravel

He spent the morning clearing the path. He pulled up weeds, dug out old roots, and leveled the earth. It was hard, physical work, and his muscles soon began to ache. But it felt good to use his hands, to do something tangible. Arthur walked down the porch steps and approached the pile

His wife, Clara, had loved the idea of a gravel path winding through the garden. She had clipped pictures from magazines and talked about the crunching sound the stones would make underfoot. She had been gone for two years now, and the garden had grown wild and tangled. He let them slip through his fingers, listening