Morning thought: the bines whisper less now

Stood out by the trellises this morning and realized the hops don't speak to me the way they used to — and I don't mind. Some jobs end by being taken from you; the better ones end by you handing them over gently and walking away with your hands open. That's where I'm at. The kid who took over is doing it better than I ever did, which somehow makes the quiet feel earned.