One of the upsides to all of this rain we have been getting is that it makes weeding the yard a heckuva lot easier.
This morning I put on some gardening gloves, grabbed a trowel, a screwdriver, a pair of pliers, and a sack, and went outside to see what I could do about those pesky dandelions. (And a few other monster weeds that apparently have been growing for some time quietly out-of-sight – until now.)
As I pushed the trowel into the first section of soggy yard, the earth gave way with a very fun “splush” sound. Upon hearing the sound of mud filling the space I had just created, and smelling the cleanness of the dirt (ironic, I know; but accurate, no?), I was immediately reminded of being a very small child (3 years old or so), playing in the mud in our small back yard in Tennessee.
Today’s task was less exciting than the thrill I used to feel in making mud pies (and just getting dirty in general), but this morning’s chore was made just a bit sweeter as the air of a simpler time in my life hung around me, keeping me company. As I dug, pulled, shook, and stuffed, I smiled at the earthworms who were surprised to find themselves on the top-side of the grass; and at the birds who chirped around me despite the gray sky; and at my family for providing me a simple, innocent, and secure childhood that allows me to have mud pies in spring as a salient memory.