Dirt

I love the smell of dirt. While many might argue that the smell of spring is the sweet smell of flowers in bloom, for me it is the rich earthy smells of fresh turned soil that signals the start of spring. Maybe it is my pollen allergies that make me reject the floral calling cards of spring. But, whatever it is, you can’t convince me that spring is here until I smell that rich heady scent of dirt.

When I smell dirt, see the deep dark colour, I want to grab a handful and feel its cool moist texture in my hand, I want to hold it close to my face, inhale deeply and smell the beginning of life. I want to squeeze it tightly in my fist, warm it with my own heat and then open my hand and watch it spill between my fingers and settle gently on the ground.

The smell of dirt is the smell of hidden potential. It is underestimated and undervalued. But it is patient and productive. It welcomes the seeds, those who happen there by accident, as well as those that are planted with forethought and deliberation. As the seeds begin to grow, the dirt shifts, accommodates, nurtures and embraces. It hardens and protects and then it accepts the breaks and fissures that are necessary for the seed to become a shoot, then a bud and finally burst into the flower of spring.

There is just so much that we can learn from dirt.