My Own relishes the vegetable and flower gardens in their full prime. I find them rather annoying. Give me unobstructed dirt! Freshly tilled or harvested bare, the vegetable garden in particular beckons me like a siren singing on the high seas. Know this: I bolt to the garden whenever I am permitted outside.
In fall and spring, the fragrant dirt lays bare to my special indulgence. There is nothing quite so enthralling as a good roll in the dirt; rubbing, blanketing my face and whiskers with its smell. Sweet earth!
After a long winter entombment in snow, dirt proves more intoxicating than catnip. In spring, My Own, bowled over by cabin fever, cannot wait to disturb the soil. It is a happy ritual for us both.
But for now, autumn is at the door and I must make as many dirt memories as possible. Winter is traveling swiftly towards us and, once it arrives, time will crawl. In winter, we will all but forget the forever-promise of spring; of Persephone waiting in the wing of the Netherworld. But when the earth melts and Persephone purls upward, I will be the first one out the door!
