WRITING:

The soft drizzle fell on his shoulders, making his t-shirt damp, like he was sweating.  It’s an uncomfortable feeling but he needs to get this rosebush planted before his wife comes home.  He should have done this ages ago, now here he is at the end of the day doing manual labor, something he absolutely hates.

He stepped on the rim of the shovel forcing it deeper into the moist rich brown soil.  It came up in clumps.  He didn’t know if that was good or bad, but the hole was getting deeper so it must be good.  Time is of the essence.  Sweat broke out on his brow.  “This is harder than I thought…who was it that told me there was nothing to it?”  He paused a brief moment to contemplate the origin of the comment.  “Oh yeh,” he said silently, continuing to shovel, "it was the guy at the botanical garden in Eden Park.  Sure easy enough for him….hie’s not out here in the drizzling ran,” The rain was comes down a bit harder now.

“Unh, “ one shovel of dirt flew to the side, “unh,” another shovel full.  He stopped for a moment and rested on the handle and peered into the gaping hole.  “That’s much better he said, almost there.  “Unh, unh, unh,” he grunted as he threw the dirt to the side.

“Ping.”  He stopped shoveling.  He raised the shovel  to tap it, water is pouring in, the color of hot chocolate.  He did it again, “ping,”  and again,  “ping.  Down on his knees he went, the rain now pouring down and into his eyes.  With his hand he reached into the small abyss and swished the water aside.  “Hmm, he said upon discovery, “there’s a metal box down there."