have it all —
my empire of dirt
brings forth life
If there’s one regret I have this year, it’s that I’ve had very little involvement with the gardening at our home. Of course, we just moved in this past January, and I wanted to hang back and see what happens to grow on its own. Thankfully, Mme. Ross took charge of the vegetable garden and we’ve already harvested, and enjoyed some of, the radishes and radish greens.
As I suspected the remainder of our yard, where evidence was borne in the vestiges of last year’s growth, has become a little perennial paradise. We even have daisies! I’m enjoying that because we didn’t have any at our old home. There’s plenty of space to work with, and some tentative plans to put in a hedgerow this year or next along the west side of our property, but when exactly is that going to happen?
I suppose we shall see. It would be nice, though, because what I really miss is getting outside on a hot day and just destroying some grass. At the last house I had a ball two years in a row, building raised beds with two-by-six frames, as well as the big garden in the back. I’d take my pick mattock, raise it high over my right shoulder and swing it down with everything in me; first the pick, then the blade as the ground began to loosen.
Who needs a tractor and a plug aerator when they can just dig? Pull up chunks of grass and shake out the dirt, throw the weed into the wheelbarrow. The mantra of breaking ground — the most sacred ancient rituals of plowing, tilling, and turning over land with just hands and arms and a single tool.
It’s that connection. I miss getting my hands into the dirt — connecting with the ground and becoming one with the Earth again.
Maybe soon, I’ll get out there. Maybe it will have to be next year.
I suppose we shall see.
Good night! May the Sun shine its face upon you tomorrow and see that you are living the most worthwhile adventures.