full body gardening

I garden with my whole body. Really-- every part of it gets into it, and dirt gets into, well, every part. My feet, already showing their annual Chaco tan, are permanently dirty come May 1. I love it. I can still get my hands fairly clean somewhat easily, but have to remember when I'm going somewhere that clean-ish fingernails will matter and do an extra scrub.

When I was first thinking about how I garden with my whole body, it was about the way I often put down the tools to use my hands and feet. I plant many plants by digging with my hands-- fingernails dug deep in the soil and all. Instead of a rake to spread compost or even an area, I often use my feet. My leg and ab muscles get into it as I push or spread soil across a bed... And, many times I just sit right down and use my hands and arms as giant scoopers or rakes. During this process, of course, I get soil and assorted flora and possibly insects in my hair, and clothes, and on my face, and wherever else it can reach. I don't think I'd know that I put in a real day's work if it wasn't for the evidence all over my soiled self. While I'm talking here about gardening, I think the same extends in other areas of my life, too. Some times I wish it didn't, but I have for a long time had the core belief that you can't be truly creative without making a mess. Well, let me amend that-- *I* can't be creative without making a mess; I don't know about other people.

As I sit here clean and lotioned after my favorite kind of garden day-- the 8 hour, immersed and dirty and productive kind-- I reflect that the shower following a day of full body gardening is particularly satisfying, as the evidence sloughs off me and into the drain. (This picture of me is 2 years old, fyi...)