My garden has been a beneficiary of my current unemployment. That has now begun to spill over into my backyard courtesy of Daibhidh Mor, who is the king of "Do it Yourself" - he has been working hard over at his house getting his yard in shape, which has put me to shame.
So now that the garden is basically done (except for planting), I've moved onto the back yard. Mostly little stuff - finishing up trimming the grass where the Ravishing Mrs. TB started doing it, trimming back bushes, working on the back fence (badly in need of repair in at least one spot) - and then sweeping up after the whole thing.
It occurred to me, as I was washing down and sweeping up the dirt around where the garbage cans sit, that this was a moment where the doing of the work was not effort - that in amidst the warm breeze of spring and the sun, that this was work worth doing, whether or not it was paying. It just felt good. In a real sense, it was motto of the Cistercians: Laborare est Orare, to work is to pray, that point at which doing work is actually a prayer - sometimes even more so than a formal prayer service.
I want more work like that.