In Seattle when the sun comes, everyone is out. You see neighbors you forgot existed. Uncovered toes, tattoos and white skin flash before your eyes on every turn. We are excited, ready for our dose of Vitamin D and have no problem exposing our flesh. Like a unified rock band we all shout from the top of our lungs, Bring It.
This weekend with the sunshine hot and bright and as abundant as grey clouds in winter, I tossed my long sleeve shirt aside and stripped down to a tank top. I was ready for one thing…to get dirty.
With the sunshine that meant only one thing. Time to plant. No big garden this year but that didn’t mean we weren’t going to grow things. My ten year old daughter and I filled nine pots on our deck. Herbs, tomatoes, orange peppers and flowers. Lots of flowers: salvia, poppy, petunia. Deep purple, bright orange, robust pink. We emptied the soggy old soil and pulled weeds as we prepped the pots for new possibilities.
When we were on the second pot we tossed the gloves aside and both agreed it was much easier to work gloveless. Feeling the dirt drying under our nails with the sun on our backs was energizing and therapeutic on many levels.
The next morning, Mother’s Day, finger nails with a few specs of dirt remaining, I drank my coffee on the deck and immediately noticed the open poppy blossom. Bright orange, petals out stretched to the sun, exposing itself, ready for the day.
Digging deep in the soil, creating something that makes my daughter and me smile, so worth getting dirty over.
by J.G. McGlothern