In the Dirt

I got to play in the mud today, and it felt great. Having tackled the windows last weekend (I washed over twenty  in a little under two hours! Hurray for productivity), I was looking for another task to help out with the spring cleaning. Something that required little thought but plenty of activity. That is how I found myself crawling on the ground this morning, pulling up this pervasive ground cover that will not die. Its infinite tendrils had long since overtaken the garden bed where my grandma has a mix of flowers and ornamental shrubs, and I, in my naive hubris, sought to conquer it once and for all. Um, yeah, complete domination is probably still a couple mornings away, but I made great progress, I promise!

While I was tackling this ungainly foe, I couldn't help but wonder why it is I enjoyed working in the dirt. Usually, most people tend to shy away from getting their hands caked in mud, the legs of their pants stained with grass. On most days, I am one of them. Yet, today, as I was kneeling down, following the vines to their roots, freeing them from the grip of the soft earth, I relished the sensation of working the soil in my hands, not caring that my hands were caked in gray by the time I had finished. I appreciated the fact that I could do something so physical, so active without hesitance or difficulty. And not to get to esoteric or anything, but it really felt like this is what my body is made to do.

So often, in our world of cars and computers, it is easy to forget that in many ways, our bodies were designed to be active. I do my best to remain so, but I admit that sometimes it is so much easier to stay glued to my chair at night than to get up and do anything that requires movement. While our minds have come up with so many brilliant ideas to make our lives easier, the convenience of these inventions leaves something to be desired. I am not giving up my computer, my car, or my indoor plumbing just yet. But I am trying to be more aware of what goes into what I consume, and I would like to be more active in the creation process. As I fought the vines, I decided that this is something I would like to do more often (the gardening part of it all that is). In that vein, I hope to cultivate a small part of the yard and ready it to plant some seeds to grow a few of my favorite vegetables. This is something we did every year growing up, and I miss going out and searching for that night's side dish. Let's hope this year, I will be successful enough to do the same.

When I finally retreated for the day, I stood back a moment to see what I had been able to do. Where there was once a group of flowers choked by an alien being, now they stood out free to grow and breathe to their fullest ability. (Well, the ones that survived the removal process...I try to be careful, but graceful and delicate are not exactly my strengths...) Oftentimes, I feel as if much of what I do at work disappears into an abyss, and it is something I truly struggle with. I like to see results. And at least with this, I was able to.  Sure, I came out a little worse for wear, but what are a few scratches on the arms, sticks in the hair, and errant streaks of mud when you can feel as if you spent a few hours doing something that made a difference? Perhaps tomorrow, I will once again take up my clippers and forge ahead with the next round.