It’s Good to get Dirty

I tend to do this thing where I pretend to not  be a nature girl.  Ask me and I’ll tell you;  I’d rather be indoors, reading, writing, baking, or even cleaning.  But, it’s not the truth. I am  a nature girl-not in a “lets hike Sugar Loaf Mountain today” way or “lets get out on the lake” way but more of a “lets look at nature and appreciate her beauty” kind of way.  That’s legit, right?

Over the weekend I was responsible for finishing the potting of our vegetable plants into the container garden and my boy Sal needed re-potting.  But first-I had to mix up the dirt.  Last year’s pots needed to be turned over and some more perlite needed to be added.  I like pretty dirt {and I can not lie-had to go there}.

The gardening gloves I bought last year had been lost in the shuffle of the utility room {unused, I might add} so I just dug in.  Bare hands, fingers in the dirt, at one with nature is the most natural way.  And, I liked it. I liked getting dirty.  I liked the feel of the plants in my hand as I gave them new homes where, hopefully, they’ll thrive and provide hardy, tasty dinners.  I liked quenching their thirst and watching their leaves sway in the breeze of an approaching thunderstorm.  When the rain came I retreated to the safety of covered shelter and contemplated my handy work.  There’s something very satisfying about gardening, and livin’ offa the fatta the lan.  Oh, Lennie. You were so right.

I’m feeling sort of proud for diggin’ in and getting dirty and not just standing by photographing the details.  Must work on doing it more often.