mud, metal, and meaning
The world will never starve for want of wonders; but only for want of wonder. — G.K. Chesterton
Each Wednesday, I am responsible for picking up my nephews from school and keeping an eye on them until my brother gets off work. The youngest just turned four, is in pre-school, and is enthralled with any kind of heavy equipment (tractors, mowers, garbage trucks, excavators, etc.).
I live very near one of the canals in Phoenix. These require periodic maintenance. Right now the canal has been drained and work crews are dredging the bottom of the canal (to clean out excess mud and debris)1 and prepping to repair concrete on the banks. There is a lot of heavy equipment involved.
On Wednesday, after picking up the four year-old from preschool, we headed over to the canal to observe the work. We found a good spot, directly across from the dump trucks and excavator. For the next forty-five minutes my nephew sat with me, absolutely mesmerized by the work being done.
I'm going to be honest. I enjoyed it. Not only was it fun to see my nephew's enthusiasm, it was calming to watch the methodical work of the crew. A small skid steer in the canal bottom scraping the mud to the sides of the canal. The excavator on the bank, scooping the debris and dumping it into a truck. Watching their progress was strangely satisfying.
This was another example of a small package that brought meaning to the day. Beautiful weather. Time with my nephew. Space to breathe and enjoy the moment.
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You should see the stuff that gets scooped up out of the canal. Shopping carts, bicycles, skateboards, hundreds of golf balls, fishing poles, electric scooters, etc. I can only image what goes unseen.↩