I vaguely remember this. The location is Sylvan Lake, so I'm working with unsticky lake sand; I've dug the moat surrounding the castle to make a center as big as I could make it; as I remember, without any tools except my hands - and of course in one afternoon. Here's a shot from before I had to abandon it:
|Complete with mystified onlooker.|
Found these pictures today while hunting around through old books and papers. I post it because these things seem so important at the time when we dedicate ourselves to them - it reminds me that the thing we lose as we get older is that sense of imposing our will upon our environment. There are always those who lose that 'youth' almost immediately; "What is the sense?" they think. Having given that up, they carry on all their lives, preaching obedience and more importantly the benefits of obedience. Obey and reap the reward. That's how the song goes.
I treasure dearly that image above of my head down, covered with sand, working. Not at what other people think I should be working at; not at something useful or even something that will last. Just the pure mind bending sand to its purpose for as long as it has the opportunity.
This makes me want to make maps. Instead, I'll write. But it's all the same thing.