Watching a Wasp on the Ground

She examines the landscape of rocks and dirt, and tosses aside what she does not like, until she finds just the right pieces. One by one she gathers her prizes, carries them back to a hole in the ground, and stuffs them inside. Then all around the plugged-up hole she grooms the ground, shaping and arranging, with an angry buzz at every stubborn rock and rough patch. Is she like me, irritated by how much labor lurks beneath the simplest tasks? Work complete, she flies away, and though I watched her from the beginning, even I cannot say where was the hole.