Hands in the mud
Feel good
Rebirth of the season,
seedlings sprouting and
all that new dirt smell.
Friday, I spent an evening
gardening with girly
until it got dark.
Muddy hands wiped on
cool grass remind me
of being a child trying
to clean up when called inside
for dinner.
The dresses were muddy until
Mom just gave up on the tomboy
being frocked and clean but
settled for presentable,
reading and talking.
Amanuensis Sobriquet-Reverie 
I spent yesterday with my hands and a shovel in the dirt. Weeding last years raised bed and turning the old wheat straw into the soil. I found a bunch of worms so I figured the dirt was getting happy. It started with too much clay and I have been amending it every year. My back is burnt and I am sore from the effort but soon the little patch will be ready to plant.
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Sounds beautiful, I miss being able to dig.
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