Digging in My Garden

Dark, warm earth slides through my fingers.  I carefully pat the dirt firmly around the small pepper plant then sit back to admire it.  The sun warms my shoulders and a breeze whips through my hair.  The sounds of bird calls surround me.  I am taking my time planting my garden—one of the luxuries of unemployment.  Each spring I briefly wonder if all of the work is worth it.  I’m not getting any younger and I could be doing other things.  But I would miss the feel of the dirt in my fingers, the anticipation of green shoots popping up through the ground, the sight of ripening vegetables, and the flavor—oh, the flavor!  There is nothing like vegetables freshly picked from the garden.  My favorite is the cherry tomatoes which almost taste like candy.  I pop them into my mouth as I work in the garden so most of them never make it into the house.  I would miss my time in the garden—the sun, the smells, the sights, the sounds, the textures. . . So here I am once again, looking forward to the fruits of my labor and appreciating my oneness with the natural world around me.