A short story called "Digging in the Yard"

Digging in the Yard

He shoved the shovel into the rock-strewn soil until it was firmly embedded into the ground. He stomped on the top of the blade thrice, pushing the shovel as far as down in the earth as it would go. He levered the shovel upwards and lifted it out of the ground. Balancing the pile of dirt on the blade, he swung the shovel slowly towards the wheelbarrow. When he reached it, he flipped the shovel, and the dirt and rocks fell in with a hiss and a clunk.

He shoved the shovel in the soil again. As he tried to press it down, he discovered that the patch of soil was far more recalcitrant than the previous one. He felt a twinge in his back. He stomped on the blade and it did not budge, instead making the ugly scraping noise of metal on rock. A bead of sweat dripped from his brow. He chose a new patch and jammed his shovel into the soil. He tipped the shovelload into the wheelbarrow, and glanced down at his shirt: a wet patch had accumulated on the blue cotton. He swallowed a glob of dry saliva. 

As he stood, shovel in hand, next to the wheelbarrow, staring at the big dusty hole he had dug and then at the whole big dirt expanse that made up the property on one side of their house and realised how strange it was that just a few weeks ago the area had been as it had always been as long as he had lived there – a wide strip of weed-infested grass with little bamboo shoots sprouting up everywhere which threatened always to engulf the house and thus required regular maintenance – and realised how significant and poignant it felt that he had done so many things in the area and formed so many memories set in it, such as the memory of Harrison and him spending that one Sunday when Tom invited him over lopping down some big bamboo trees with a spade and maybe a mattock (they didn’t use the axes in the garage because Tom’s dad, characteristically, instructed them not to on account of his fear that they would injure ourselves), which was Harrison’s idea and Tom didn’t think would be fun because he just wanted to play PS2 or watch a movie or something, but did end up being fun as far as he could remember, because it sort of gave them a sense of masculine power or something, Tom noticed his legs felt heavy and tired. He walked over to the big rock on the edge of the big hole he was digging and sat down on it. His water bottle was standing in the shadow of the tree just to his right. He picked it up, unscrewed it and took a swig. The water was cool and refreshing.

Hard physical labour can be rewarding in a way that one does not ever experience in quotidian, urban life.