Paradise Lost - Around 1972

Nothing lasts forever, and neither did our fish pond. Mom got sick of the green algae slime that accumulated on the surface (a bit too natural, perhaps), and of the water leaking onto the floor of our now more formal patio. One day she donned her most fetching construction clothing ensemble, borrowed a sledgehammer and set about destroying the fish pond. It didn't take long. The rocks were carted to the end of the back yard, where they formed a rather odd-looking accompaniment to the fence.

I should note here that Mom normally did stuff like this. Until she retired at age 65, she was a hard worker and accustomed to doing physical labor. During the Seventies, when she was in her fifties, she was a pretty strong woman. I can remember her easily lifting washers, dryers, sofas and even the odd refrigerator. She would get winded, of course, but somehow she managed to move what she wanted to move. It was a source of amusement and sometimes awe to Dad and me. Anyway, besides cruising the neighborhood for yard sales, Mom's idea of a fun weekend was to haul rocks around, tear out trees by the roots or do some other heavy labor. Despite whatever else she valued, she valued work.

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