it feels good to be muddy.
digging in the warm dirt.. dirt warmer than the air.
I'm peddling as fast as I can, and I'm not keeping up. I can make it the last 5 days.
Yesterday I came home to an empty house, with no where I needed to be for 17 hours. I dropped my bags outside the door, took off my shoes and picked up my shovel.
I hunkered down in the garden for the next couple of hours. I dug a new flower bed for tall privacy plants (from seed) this year- next year a hedge will go in the back of it to screen out Mr."I'm BBQing STEAKS TONIGHT!".
The dirt worked it's way under my nails- on my toes and my hands. I scraped rocks, I moved hidden treasures (I think I found the hulk's arm and gi joe's head) and chatted with the kind neighbour next door. I worked till I hurt.
And it felt good.