Sunday, April 29, 2012

Essay 10


Dirt, Mother earth, soil, dust, mud.  I love the smell of fresh-turned dirt.  Of soil after a summer’s rain.  Of a freshly rototilled garden.  Children playing in the mud.  Feeling alive as I dig and dig to plant seedlings.  Dirt is what we came from.  The Bible says “for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.”  Dirt is fun if you’re a little kid, not so fun if you are an adult cleaning the little kid.  But dirt is essential to life.

I had a friend whose mother was not like mine.  My mother was always worried about keeping things clean.  Wipe that up, don’t track that dirt in the house.  Disgusting.   But my friend’s mother was different.  After a morning rain, she took her children outside and encouraged them to play in the mud.  “Feel the dirt between your toes.  How does it feel?  Go ahead and get dirty, enjoy the feeling.  Your clothes will wash.”  She urged them to experience the soil.  Her family always had a big garden and they learned from their mother that dirt was not some disgusting thing to be avoided.  It has a vital purpose in this world and can be enjoyed without fear of repercussion.

Although I own numerous pairs of garden gloves, I almost never use them.  When I plant seedlings, I want to feel where I am planting them, so I use my bare hands.  I can feel the dirt and pick up the worms so they aren’t damaged by my trowel.  I love the feel of warm earth in my hands.  Earth is life.  It harbors living organisms that nourish the seeds I sow.  Dirt has nutrients that are vital to existence.

My children liked to play in the dirt.  I gave them spoons so they could dig.  Yes, they came into the house all sweaty and dirty, and of course, I didn’t want it all through the house.  But I was somewhere between my friend’s mother and my own.  I would strip the kids off and wash their clothes, but I didn’t fuss too much about the dirt they tracked in.  Dirt can be swept, washed, laundered and disposed of.  But children are only young once.  And God has given them skin that doesn’t stain permanently, fingernails that can be cleaned.  And so I let them play in the dirt.

Dirt is the foundation of this world.  It sustains life.  In the winter, plants die in the frozen ground,  but when spring comes and the earth warms under the sun, life revives.  It inspires little hands that dig for worms, construct makeshift roads, sow their first seeds.  Dirt is the essence of life.

1 comment:

  1. I'm very much torn here. This is a fine essay, warm, touching, funny, interesting. I'd love to reinforce this kind of writing and reward you for doing it. But if this were a final, I'd be saying, 'What the heck kind of essay is this? I want structure!'

    So, I'm very reluctantly asking for a rewrite where you are writing a definite type of essay.

    ReplyDelete