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.
I too love the smell of fresh dirt/mud – and you’re right – it smells so clean!
It’s fun to get dirty. 🙂 Back in my youth, I used to go spelunking; and would come back to the dorm absolutely FILTHY – and smelling of that musky, muddy, clean smell. It was great. 😉
You speak Minnesotan!
I do! (Much to my family’s chagrin.) 🙂 Do you have any words that are uniquely Berkshire?
New Englanders are supposed to be taciturn ROFLOL 😀
Nope, no special words. Unless you count “cottage” — referring to really HUGE mansions, built in the Gilded Age at the turn of the Twentieth Century by the Morgans and Vanderbilts and those kinda folk, who are then called “cottagers”. Hah.
But that’s not unique to the Berkshires, “cottage” is used in Newport, Rhode Island for the same mansions, same kinda folk.
Funny – when I think “cottage”, I think tiny wooden structure held together by moss…
Minnesota has all sorts of “unique” words: ‘hot dish’ (for casserole), ‘up north’ (for any location 30 miles or more north of Minneapolis), ‘ish’ (for ‘yuck’)…. and it goes on, and on…
At least it keeps things interesting. 🙂
That’s the joke about the Berkshire and Newport cottages — anywhere else (in the dictionary, your mind, my mind, common usage)— they are “tiny wooden structures held together by moss” or rusty nails or spit and chewing gum.
And then you look at these fantastical structures of 27 bedrooms or more on umpty-ump acres! It’s like Marie Antoinette and her companions at Versailles playing at being milkmaids.
We had a Minnesota friend who taught us some of the lingo. Garrison Keillor-style understatement — like the motto of the daily Writer’s Almanac –http://writersalmanac.publicradio.org/– (which if you don’t know, you should):
Be well, do good work, and keep in touch.
Oh, yes, I know Garrison and his classic ending phrase very well. I adore listening to him read poems; he has such a soothing, throaty, deep, ‘perfect’ voice for the task. Aaahhhh…
Pingback: Pleasure amid work | Smile, kiddo.