Dirt has long been meaningful to me as a gardener.
This picture is an early morning bulldoser moving dirt shot taken on the day we excavated for our foundation seven (or so) years ago in Washington. My former home. The dirt was very fine; my dad, an agronomist, pronounced it “silty loam”, with more emphasis on the silt than on the loam. Which meant lots of flying dust when it was moved, but it compacted very well with water, making an excellent bed for our foundation. Water was the magic ingredient for sure; later, I would discover that with ample irrigation and a little amendment, that silty loam would be quite arable.
Our current home’s foundation rests on what appears to be mostly clay. What drama, what misery in the mud have we waded through this winter! What tales I have to tell… but now, my thoughts are turning (naturally) to gardening, and frankly, I feel… somewhat subdued. I will have to reinvent my gardening culture. Meanwhile, cartons of new little plant starts sit out on the front porch of my rental, waiting for homes.
