Donna Lane has the right idea.
I don’t have epiphanies every morning at 6:30 a.m. picking up trash along Kennedy Drive in the cold fog, but when I feel low I look around me and remember that I am working in one of the most remarkable parks in the world, a jewel conceived more than 125 years ago and built on a void of sand dunes. I edge. I prune. I wrestle with sprinkler heads and the sun breaks through. Gardening is my trade. It isn’t a life sentence of hard manual labor. It’s a life.