Soft Dirt
I use a turning fork when I work in my gardens and lawns. It’s better than a shovel or a spade. It’s easier to get it into the ground, and I can hold it with one hand when I’m on my knees. But usually, at this time of the year, the ground is so dry and compacted that even the fork proves useless. It merely pings when hammered into the dirt. The case was proven once again this past Monday, when I discovered a batch of late blooming khaki weed. My nemesis. The ground was so hard, in fact, that I watered an area before I dug.
Then, miracles of miracles, as if on demand came a thunderstorm. A big one. The wind howled, the rain fell in sheets, lightning flashed and thunder crashed. When it was all done, the canopy on my deck by the pool was in tatters, but four inches of rain had fallen, and the ground was as soft as melted ice cream. The turning fork dug deep, the earth heaved, and the long roots of the khaki weed yielded to my entreaties. The ground remains soft even now, five days later. I dug stragglers yesterday. It’s a wonder how deep big water goes into the earth.
And now the mornings are cool and the days less than blistering so the water will have a chance to stay in the ground. The sun is moving on to demand its due from other regions of the globe. Good, it’s a nice way to start the journey into winter for plants and humans alike. All in all, it’s been a sweet summer with lots of rain and few of the baking, hot days of 100-degree temperatures. I’ll take it. With gratitude. And maybe I’ll even finish up the garden extension I started last fall. I just needed the will that disappeared over the holidays. And I think it’s back, thanks to rain, cool days, and a good summer.
John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver’s Tale