“In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt.” – Margaret Atwood
I love that quote. With the warm weather upon us, my hands itch to open bags of potting soil. I want to place clay shards or rocks at the bottom of pretty pots, then cover them with rich, black soil. I long to gently scoop out a small indention in that soil and place a budding geranium, or a couple of petunia plants, or one brightly-colored shasta daisy into its new home. I can see myself covering the roots as snugly as a mother placing a blanket over a toddler going down for a nap. I love giving the newly potted plant it’s first drink of water, then sitting it on a table or railing on the deck, so it can be kissed by the sun each morning.
I’ve mentioned every spring since we began spending our summers on the Island how much I miss the ritual I’ve described above. Oh, I could still do it. But several weeks later, I’d be either leaving the plants to die in the summer’s heat, or trying to find folks to “adopt” them, like they were puppies left behind when an owner moves away.
So instead, I rode down to the Cobb nursery and walked up and down the aisles and smiled at the hundreds of hanging baskets, potted plants and trays of just-started flowers. I did that Wednesday and came home happy to have spent an hour or so admiring the riotous beauty in three greenhouses and smelling the damp-soil-perfumed air. And just before I left, I couldn’t keep myself from buying a few small pots of geraniums. When I got home, I placed them around on the deck and laughed at my inability to totaling by-pass planting season. In a few weeks, I’ll be looking for homes for these red “puppies”, but until then, I’ll sure enjoy taking care of them.
Winter’s over. It’s time to smell like dirt at the end of the day.
Have a great weekend! God bless.