digging in the dirt

I'm learning, that the best way for me to snap out of dismal depression, even if it's only for a few minutes, is to spend time with those vibrant living beings that are immovably planted in the ground.

I went for my morning visit to my veggie garden and I couldn't believe it!

I was unrestrainedly thrilled!!

I had TWO heavenly heads of lettuce popping up!

I watered them with love and told them how positively delicious they're going to taste with my great tahini basil salad dressing I invented.

I just HAD to tell the Dominican Daddy, as he is the person who is teaching me how to garden.

I felt the need to show my mother nature mentor what a good job I did and get my acknowledgement of achieving something!

He saw them, gave me the sideways look of, 'oh gringo', then laughed, "These are not lettuce.  They're weeds."

I just about collapsed laughing, with the possibility of joining Psycho Kitty who was trying to be at rest 6 feet beneath my feet, if it weren't for my cackling.

I WAS going to take a picture of them for you.

When I told him that and he laughed even harder.

Then the sweetest thing happened.

Around the corner came Our Favourite, huffing a MASSIVE avocado tree.

He saw that mine were only avocado sticks, and because he has so many avocado trees, he gave me one.

I honestly don't know if he asked his mother first.

You never know with a child, so I'll ask her later.

But now I have 2 avocado sticks and one fat, full avocado tree!

Needless to say, my veggie garden isn't doing so well.

We're going to empty out the current dirt and put in some really good soil from the village and try again.

Digging in the dirt.

Feeling new life.

Seeing the living soil beneath my fingernails.  Forget about the gloves.  I want to feel that clay.

Searching for growth to prove that life still goes on, no matter what happens in our tiny little worlds with our insignificant problems.

Watching the healthy growth that is more than living.  Not letting the growth that threatens our demise to echo.

I feed the fruit trees with water as I touch their strong skin, inviting their strength and energy.

They can't speak, but I know they hear me.

It's much like how I know the angels hear me, even though I don't audibly hear them.

They remind me they are here in silly ways that are too much of a coincidence to not believe it was their answer.

I am at peace with the possibility of a nasty outcome, and last night, Papi and I spoke about how it really could be best case scenario.

It would mean I would just get everything taken care of much faster and there will be no need for a 2nd opinion.

No need for further testing to see if I hold the gene.

No more worry, because those funbags would be history and Mr. Lumpy would have no place left to live.

Or to hide.

Evicted.

So, today, I'll dig.

Further into the ground.

Speaking to my angels, to Psycho Kitty, to the fruit trees and anyone else who cares to listen.

Then I'll clean a little more.

There's something about cleaning that keeps my mind off matters that I don't know the outcome of, as well.

You should see my sparkly kitchen wall and cupboards!

Dirt is my best friend right now.

i give out love and it is returned to me multiplied