Walking upon the rich, brown soil of the garden, I could feel the energy in each barefoot step. The minerally odor of the fresh-turned earth punctuating the air and wafting through my nostrils.The garden was alive. I felt alive.
As I slipped in and out of my flip-flops, realizing being shoeless in mucky earth may not be the delight of everyone, but I felt right. I could feel the spirit and soul in the ground, plants, and the afternoon sun.
I had grown closer than ever before with the garden. This year, instead of just putting plants down in dirt, I was bonded to this little plot of soil.
I started early with swiss chard and kale indoors this season. Several weeks after germination, I put the kale in the raised garden bed I built, the chard soon to follow.
Soon after planting the kale we got a cold snap. Temps were at or below freezing. So late at night I would cover the tender plants with a bed sheet, and pull it off early in the morning. This year I’ve become more invested and devoted to gardening.
When I set my barefeet down in the loose earth, I sank in slightly. The dirt encasing my feet, and squeezing in between my toes. I was at peace.
I felt just how the young vegetable plants do. My roots stuck in the moist ground, the afternoon sun overhead shining down on me. There that afternoon, barefoot in the garden, I was one with the Earth, sun, and the little pepper and tomato plants and herbs.
I had become more than a planter, more than gardener. I became spiritually connected with the elements.