Societal thinking might suggest that my leathers are in need of reconstructive surgery, but I beg to differ. To me, the wear and tear is symbolic of the countless steps I've taken to grow my garden. My husband's backroom attempts to toss them have failed as I fish them out of potential obscurity and slip into them with happiness. The relief that, once again, they are at my feet is palpable. Tattered and torn to perfection, these comforting soles are, of course, my favorites.
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