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  • At thirteen I thought, hey everything would be okay in life if I only had a zen garden. I drew up the plans and handed them to my Dad. He told me I couldn't have a circular garden. Wood planks don't work that way, at least not with miter saws. But I could have an octagon zen garden.

    Though I worried about the negative implications of octagon-angled feng shui, I agreed and the thing was built with scrap wood and the leftover sand from my former sand box.


    I picked up a rake and started at it and accidentally pulled up the plastic liner underneath the sand, there just wasn't enough sand in there. I was tearing holes in the liner. "You need a lighter rake, a leaf rake not a garden rake," Dad observed.

    So I got a different rake, but it just wasn't producing the satisfying calm zen results I was hoping for.

    I didn't use my zen garden very many times before the wild cats discovered it. It must have provided quite a lot of satisfying calm as they released their pent up urine and dung- judging from the prolific amounts left behind.

    And after the cats migrated to other yards and other lives the moss came and colonated the zen box. When the wooden perimeter succumbed to rot it was dismantled and swept away.
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