Green Thumb

With my brother in Chi-Town and Daniel preparing to be arrested in Atlantic City, I find myself being the only member of the Dirty 30 in NC for a few days. Currently, I am at home in St. Pauls, preparing to celebrate a joint family birthday this evening for 2 of my aunts. All day, I’ve tried to stay busy doing something outside. If you know me at all, you know that yard work is one of my favorite drugs, and today I’ve had an extra long fix of it.

I can’t remember just when I began to really love doing yard work. Growing up, I detested it. Pushing a mower through knee high grass in the blazing sun was not the way I wanted to spend my free time, especially in the summer. When I was younger in fact, Zach and I would go to my Great-Grandparents house down the street, in hopes of doing some yard work for a little bit of money. As Zach toiled in the yard solo, I would join the company of my Great-Grandfather (Chewy as we called him), helping myself to a Cokie (Just regular Coke) and crackers. As Zach finished a hard days work in the yard and as my television program went off, we would both receive $5, a hug, and a goodbye.

But, as I got older, I began to find an outlet in yard work. I loved being able to zoom across the yard on the riding mower, and I felt like Picasso, as I made sure every sprig of grass stood just right. I cannot begin to tell you how many weeds I have pulled from the soil of the earth with my bare hands. Just today, I’ve probably pulled up close to 100 dandelion weeds. Nothing says progress than a wheelbarrow full of green refuse.

Perhaps the most enticing thing about yard work is the serenity I find in it. My quiet neighborhood offers a peaceful environment in which to connect to nature and to my thoughts. No, I’m not some hippie, but I believe you can learn a lot about yourself just by being outside and feeling dirt between your fingers.