We watered our dirt yesterday. Twice. I know, I know - we're in a drought, but that's what this project is all about. A low maintenance, non-water gulping yard. The soaking made the digging much easier so my back is very grateful.
I remember 25 years ago living in a long-term rehab center in Lakeside for girls with drug problems. If a person got in serious enough trouble, they were sent to the "garden" for a period of time. It was the day before I was supposed to transfer out of the center to the second and final phase - which meant more independence, better digs (excuse the pun) and a sure sign that I was healing and stable.
Like many people do, I self-sabotaged and made a very serious decision that left the counselors wondering if they should kick me out. Instead I was sent to The Garden.
My"sentence" was 2 weeks - I had to pack my food, my journal, etc. and walk down the Garden at 7 am and didn't return to the house until 7 pm. I couldn't speak with anyone during this time. I guess no one had been in serious trouble for awhile because the Garden was overgrown with weeds and trash . Nothing was thriving and I was relating.
I was at a crossroad in my life and I knew it.
I grabbed a shovel and the first attempt at sinking it in the ground sent shocks up my spine. The ground was rock hard. I tried a different section. Same thing. I cussed and screamed and cried. When I was done with my pity party, I started to pick up trash and put it in a bag. Then I had the bright idea of soaking the ground! I set up sprinklers and let the water start the softening process.
I finally sat down to pray. I asked for guidance and mercy. When I was done eating and journaling, I starting digging out the weeds with a garden trowel, focused, committed. Time seemed to fly. I found I wasn't praying just once or twice, but constantly. In communication with a power greater than myself, residing within me, around me, in the dirt, in the weeds, in the sun, in the water- everywhere. Maybe it was heatstroke, but I don't think so!
After a few days of this same routine, I finally took the shovel, stepped hard on it, and was able to penetrate the surface of the ground. To my surprise, about 4 inches down through the crust, I hit lovely, dark, moist soil! I dropped to my knees, took off my gardening gloves, and let this beautiful dirt run through my fingers. It smelled rich with minerals and there were little worms and crawly things that were necessary, alive and beautiful. Section by section, I dug my shovel in, scooped deep, and turned the barren, dry soil over, raking out the dead grass and weeds, and allowing the dark, fertile soil to come to the surface. The day I was allowed to come out of the Garden, I looked at the beautiful, blank, healthy ground and right in the middle, one small purple flower sprung from the dirt.
