As I look at the calendar, I realise that I have about five weeks left, five weeks before the snow 'flies'(1). There are lots of things to do before the beautiful, white blanket of snow covers our town. I'm a gardener, a self-proclaimed (2)addict. But that's not a bad thing. As I sit here typing, looking out at the back garden, or 'yard' as they say here, I see a transformation slowly evolving. There is a long, raised bed(3) of soil, two trees, and one, two, three bushes. Soon, I hope, that amount will be multiplied by four. So what is my goal? It's a mini-forest that will have a seating area in the middle, accessed only by two windy(4) paths. It will also hide the neighbor's ugly white barn that looks over my garden. To take on a project like this, you have to have a vision. And my vision has helped me to continue working hard. When the soil or 'dirt' was delivered, I thought, "Gosh, that's a lot of soil. Will I really be able to transport all of it from the front garden to the back garden?" The thought was intimidating. My children helped me a little bit, but I think they did that just to keep me happy(5). They had their own agenda. They took possession of this mountain of soft soil, like it was powdered gold. Before I knew it(6), they were digging tunnels, building rooves, and having battles right in the 'dirt pile'. In fact, my son Cass, who had just celebrated his birthday, suggested that next year I buy him his own dirt pile for a birthday present. My! How life has changed! When I was young, I played in dirt all the time, and drove my mother crazy. Now, in our ultra-clean, ultra-scheduled society, children are requesting dirt piles as presents. They are abandoning their computers and iPads, and waiting for Santa to pour three cubic feet of soil down the chimney. I applaud their connection with the soil. It's magnificent stuff, the foundation of nature's architecture.
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