Earth & Daisies

This morning, I promised myself I’d wake up and be productive. Not that housecleaning, do more work at home for the office kind, but the fun kind. Getting my hands dirty and being one with the Earth. One thing about this new place is that it’s a little, shall we say, neglected. It’s a nice enough place, good bones and great light, but someone forgot that you have to pay attention to a house after its built.

 

I’ve addressed the chronic funny smell the house seems to have when it’s been closed up all day. It’s not like there are bodies buried under the slab or anything, just a smell of neglect. I think the house was empty for about six months before I fell in love with it.

 

The yard is typical for our area, hard packed clay, now cracked and unyielding because of the excessive rain followed by the usual endless sunny days.

 

Hesitant because I can see the stuff carrying the pollen flying through the area, poised to attack me again, just as I start to feel some relief from five solid days of headaches and the desire to extract all of my own teeth to relieve the pressure, I set forth with gardening tools in hand.

 

I purchased a couple of flowers for the front; they seemed to call to me, wherein they would not be a typical choice for me. They are beautiful, purple African Daisies. I dug into the ground with the little shovel. Clank. Nothing. Clank. Nothing. I pull out the big shovel. With all of my weight, I dig into the ground. Clank. I wet the Earth. Try again. Chung. I wasn’t giving up—it was me against the Earth. As darkness settled, sweating and panting as though I had just gone hand-to-hand with the Incredible Hulk and won, I had two not-so-neatly dug holes for my Daisies. Joe said, “They are pretty, but not as pretty as the original.” I smiled—the original being our dog, Daisy Mae. And, me, I’m feeling pretty buff after the workout. Who needs a gym? Just try to plant anything here in Sacramento.

 

It’s coming along. Still lots to do. And no time. Back to work, the budget is calling me!

 

Spring - An experience in immortality.
~ Henry D. Thoreau

Published on: May 6, 2006