I enjoyed thinking that my garden tools would grow old with me. In some small way it would make me as my father and grant me passage into that place one can only belong to after years of being shaped by an honest days work.
But instead of being broken in my tools are forever breaking down. I now have a collection of snapped handles, cracked shovel blades and collapsed wheelbarrows. All of which provides a healthy supply of spare parts but denies me an accounting of my tasks.
This pic shows the detail on a 24" cast stone Gunnera leaf.