Saturday, November 14, 2009
As I was sweeping my floors today, and noticing all the dirt, my mind went back to my childhood experiences with dirt. Dirt was a big part of this farmer-girl's life; on my hands and knees in the dirt pulling weeds, sweeping dirt from under the dining room table after every summer meal, the feel of dirt on my bare feet as I took lunch out to dad in the field (every summer day at 3:00), the smell of dirt as I lay on the back of a cow as we slowly made our way to the barn, the dirt "farm" that my brothers built in the trees, the ring of dirt in the bathtub when I wasn't the first in on Saturday night, dirt under my fingernails, between my toes, the bottoms of my feet. I have spent a lot of my life re-arranging dirt. But right now I wish I had about 320 acres of good black dirt in the Red River Valley. Then when I needed to go into a nursing home, my kids could sell all that dirt and pay for someone to come into my home to take care of me. Yes, one thing about dirt - everything we have came from it. So why do we abhor it so?