Dirt

Most of Saturday was spent moving earth. I spent a good part of it griping at my husband over why he had decided to dump 50 tarpfulls of leaves in the garden this past fall. In October, the pile reached well up to our belly buttons. His wishful thinking made him believe this would all be good “soil” by spring. After refilling the tarps and dragging our sorry sacks of leaves back into the woods, we cheered as we saw the hardened soil of the garden once again.  We tilled and toiled until the lush soil just seemed to beg for some seeds.  Something about gardening makes you feel at ease despite the efforts. In our yard, you’ll hear the occasional neighs from the horses, sounds of ruffling maple trees and the clamor of the kids on a swing.  By now, green has once again become the prominent color everywhere the eye can see. It's a relief after the long winter. As Chris tugs the meadow grass from the corner of the garden he tells me that he never wants to leave this spot.  I guess were not moving I think to myself. Fleece will permanently become part of my wardrobe.  But I look up and see high grass rippling in the wind and I can’t help but agree with him.  We head back into the old antique lady that we call home and plan out next date in the garden for Monday. Once again we’ll discuss how peppers like to hold hands and we’ll sound just like an old married couple.  Perhaps all of this is why I have chosen this picture for today.