When the going gets tough I go digging, weeding and frolicking in the community garden. I have the best intentions of wearing my gardening gloves until I am overcome by the paroxysmal joy of soil. I dig my hands in to that rich humus, do my salute to the soil and get communing with earth worms. There I am again gardening naked of glove!
I come home with a glint in my eye, and a mighty load of crap under my nails. My skin will never be super smooth and its a good thing I don’t embrace fake nail culture as they wouldn’t stand a chance against the pure, unadulterated feeling of dirt. But I am happy.
One hour at the garden for me is therapy, physical activity and community all rolled into one. I am less crabby when I return. I am overjoyed with a harvest of my first ever broccoli, some super spinach leaves and fresh herbs to throw in tonight’s dinner.
My plot beckons with possibility for the coming spring. The soil having been much improved since I commenced gardening in February this year, will be ready for broad beans, herbs, corn, zucchini and edible flowers. So exciting.
I have to work hard against the garden pilferers. So far they have removed three robust parsley plants, a purple sage, and yesterday my three artichoke plants. I try not to get in a rage about vegetable theft, but it seems a little mean-spirited to remove whole plants and not just the offerings of the plants. I will not be beaten. I will replant! There is enoughh for all.
We all have a place we can go to sooth our souls. Mine is the garden. I long for my own magickal garden one day, but in the interim, I’ll keep digging nude at the plot.