It feels weird to be stuck at a desk again.
I took a week vacation, the first since December (which has been waaayyy too fucking long), and spent nearly all of the week toiling in our yard.
With my mother's help, we got most of the leaf litter cleared away, and my wife and I were able to get beds rebuild, cleaned, dug, and are slowly refilling them with soil.
We were left with a decrepit old metal and wood bench - I acquired fresh wood, metal primer and rust paint, new bolts, and outdoor urethane, and am slowly getting everything ready to rebuild it good as new in a lovely deep red colour.
During one of our hardware store trips, we got some herbs (3 types of lavender and one of garden sage) to plant, as well as a foxglove. We have dahlias, fairy lilies, and marigolds to put out. I have 5 happy plum tomato plants in pots on the deck.
So many nights over the past week, I've stumbled in the house and straight to the shower, exhausted and aching and filthy. Head to toe dirt. Smeared on my arms and legs, inside my gloves, smudged on my face, under my fingernails, on my glasses. Soil and old muck and rust and dust. From digging out rocks from garden beds, from pulling weeds, from carrying bucket after bucket of fresh garden soil, from slipping and falling trying to disconnect the hose from the tap again. Grass stains on my knees. My neck hurts, my legs are covered in bruises, I have hedge thorn scratches on my arms. I have the start of a swell farmer tan. Sweaty. Hair at the back of my neck is wet, between my breasts is dripping, my glasses keep sliding down my nose.
And I fucking love it.
This is building a relationship with our land - this is paying in blood and sweat and labour, in hopes of love in return. Beautiful flowers, the shade of massive trees, some day soon, sweet fresh veg; hopefully cherries one day from our cherry tree. There are some random blackberry canes here and there that I refuse to remove - others sprouting up that may be wild raspberry. And so much wonderful green.
We had a small barbecue for Canada Day, and for the first time I walked barefoot in the grass. My grass. Our grass. I was always a bit shy to, before, not knowing what rocks or sticks or broken glass were back there. But no more. I walked barefoot, sat in it, laid back and looked up at the sky.
I had to pull some roots out of a flower bed - I suspect they belonged to one of our big trees. I wove them into two little wreathes - one I hung, in offering, on the tree - one I brought in for my altar. It needs a re-do, some freshening up, and then I will show you.
<3
Dirt is wonderful.
