2010 marks the first year in 15 that I haven't had some small patch of earth to claim as my own, the first that I haven't indulged that springtime urge to peel back the still cool sod, to breath in that musty, primal aroma, to plunge my hands into the deep pulsing rhythm of our planet.
But there are things that must be traded for life on the water. Dirt would be one of those things. Cute leather boots would be another, but that's a topic for another day.
Last week I was walking into Ace Hardware, past the rack of pansies. The smell of potting soil wafted by and gripped me with a sense of nostalgia and sadness that I wouldn't be planting a garden.
A few days later I was walking into Home Depot, past the bags of grass seed and fertilizer. The smell of chemicals wafted by and filled me with elation that I wouldn't be burdened with a lawn this year.
I'm so fickle.
1 comment:
Grow Sea Monkeys.
Jim
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