Monday, May 23, 2011

i ran into A TON of worms yesterday.

As the warm summer rain started pounding my back yesterday afternoon, I only really had one thought in my head. I kept methodically sinking my hand-shovel into the increasingly wet earth, and with every repetitive movement, I felt it echo again and again.

I'd still rather be out here than inside anywhere.

The thunder rolled closer and my visibility started diminishing; it was really pouring now. Plus, I had marginally short white-printed shorts on that were getting soaked, and no underwear. (I really have no idea why I wasn't wearing underwear, I don't typically go commando- either I was feeling particularly free yesterday or I really needed to do laundry.) I finally gave into the thought "As much as I'd like to make friends with Manfriend's new neighbors... it's weird enough that I'm out here frolicking in the rain, I probably don't need to welcome attention to my nether-region on top of that."  It was time for a break.

I stepped up onto the porch out of the torrents of water falling from the sky for a moment and looked at my new garden. It's not much, really, about a six by eight foot plot.

But it's mine.

This need I have to plant seeds and till soil everywhere I go isn't out of the blue, I've grown up amid green thumbs and lush greenery. My mother and grandmother can damn near cram a stick into the ground and I swear in a week it'll be alive with purple blooms. I remember following my Nan around barefoot from my topsy-turvy toddler steps, learning which little leaves were weeds and how to pull them up from the roots. I never stood a chance, there's something about having plants growing around me that feels like home- especially when as a kid and home changed semi-frequently. Even since my first reign away from the comfort of my parents' roof, I've been coloring the world around me in blooms and lugging around potted plants for comfort, despite the fact that I can't seem to summon the desire to plant my own figurative heart-roots any one place.  

As my mind flashed through this sequence, I mentally lauded myself for learning what soothes my crazy.

Because I have a lot of crazy.

I stood there staring out into the rain and attempted to wipe a combination of sweat and fallen water off of my face, basically only managing to paint my forehead with dirt, but it didn't matter. I was just waiting for the showers to slow down long enough to finish planting everything, my mind was racing with a plan and an almost instinctual need to carry it to the end. Plus, the worms don't give a shit what I look like when I'm uprooting their whole worlds with new life-forces.

It wasn't long before the sun came back out, yesterday was one of those days that the forecast "Scattered Showers' comes from. I hurried to get back to transplanting, mapping, digging, and watering until everything felt right, until I was sure that everything would thrive and grow. When it was all over, I was covered in mud,  and happier than a goddamn bug in a rug.

It struck me as Manfriend opened the front door to examine my handiwork and caught sight of me, half-smirking, half shaking his head at me as if in frustration at an unruly child, that this is what I'm good at, this what I do, this is part of who I am.

I'm a freaking nut job when it comes to commitment, I'd sooner chew off one of my own limbs than agree to have myself planted in one place for the foreseeable future. I have an aversion to labels. I enjoy contradiction in character, like a giant question mark dicking on down the road. I'm terrified of being pigeon-holed into a group that will keep me from flowing on to another if it strikes me fancy.

But I can commit to this one. 

I am a gardener. 

I need the feeling of making things grow and prosper around me at all times. I need to get dirty and bend over until my back is stiff and map living colors in my mind. Gardening is the closest thing I have to therapy, an earth-shaking spiritual experience, or enlightenment. It lets me get dirty and gives me something beautiful to share with the world.

Planting things in soil gives me the AHA! moments I need, and through teaching me how to make things grow, it teaches me how to make me grow. I wish everyone a hobby that makes them feel so right.

Plus, it basically gives me a free pass to play in the mud, and I definitely don't hate that.

XO Sare

1 comment:

  1. This was lovely! Gardening has always struck me as a very satisfying and stress-releasing activity. So, I wish I had your gardening ability. My ex boyfriend gave me a plant once and I killed it within a month.