A Bit of Earth

Well, I keep waiting for a perfect way to say this, but "perfect" is subordinate to "done," so here goes:

I bought a house.

It has a kitchen, and a living room, and two little bedrooms, and an itty-bitty bathroom that I'm already plotting to renovate, and a laundry room (the height of luxury, truly), and a garage big enough to serve as both shop and car storage at once. And it has a yard.

I own dirt.

I can plant things! All kinds of things! I could have poultry (within limits)! I could...wow. I could dig a hole in the yard, just because I felt like it. I realize that's a strange impulse, but sometimes you just want to dig, and that's hard to do when you don't own any dirt.

Right now it's full of boxes and bags of things to unpack, and I'm not sure where I'm going to put things yet, and there are weird paint colors and a back door to replace—but it's mine. A bit of earth, to plant seeds in, to make things grow, to see them come alive.

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