After two weekends of designing, sawing, and measuring shelving, I had had enough of a project that just wasn’t working out. I finally looked at the kitchen and said “I give up,” then I headed outside for some time in the gardens.
I threw on my overalls and clogs and headed outside to rake and dig. It was my first foray into “yard work” after a disappointing winter, and I wanted to get my knees and hands dirty. In the process, I uncovered new shoots of Spring perennials, cleared away dead leaves, and planted a few bulbs.
But the best part of the entire afternoon was digging in the rich black dirt with my bare hands. There is something to be said for being that close to creation and feeling it underneath your fingernails. It gets inside your soul and reminds you that life can be as simple as you and the earth and the Master Gardener of it all.
When I came inside, my daughter asked if I was showering before heading to a massage appointment. I nodded then escaped to the bathroom. As I looked at my mid-life face in the mirror, the reflection was of a younger girl, fresh-faced and glowing. No makeup, except a light dusting here and there of soil and the joy of being in touch with Nature.