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Saturday

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A day at the beach is relaxing, the amusement park fun, but neither is more satisfying than a day spent working in my backyard. Saturday morning begins on my back porch where I slip on my old tennis shoes, stained green from years of cutting grass in them. Three stone steps lead down to the backyard, where warm sunshine filters through the tall pine trees surrounding it, providing light and shade. The sun in my backyard is as warm as the sun at any beach, but without the crowds to wade through and the seagulls to scare away from my ham sandwich, I am able to enjoy it without distraction. Unlike the beach, when I'm done for the afternoon, I don't have to clean sand from inside my 1970 burnt amber Dodge Dart.
In the center of my garden oasis, a soft, green lawn unfolds. As I step across the...
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