Since working on our farm on the weekends I discovered I was noticing people’s shoes. I first noticed myself noticing one cold morning on my commute when a pretty woman flounced (that bouncing fluttering gait) by wearing a miniskirt and stiletto heels. My first thought, I swear, was that she never walks on grass or in the woods.
I saw coworkers in tennis shoes and fancy suede shoes walking the halls at work in the grip of our wet winters.
I have friends who never breathe the air outside. They breathe house air, car air, garage air, and office air. They almost never touch living soil either. Everything around us is paved and sterile. Great strips of concrete divide and cover the world illustrating our desire to control nature and create a less complex world.
I like dirt and mud, grass and trees. I adore getting things done outside regardless of the weather. It always feels so direct. I can point to that stack of logs, that field. I am fascinated by the diversity of a square foot of sod. I find myself cheering for life, for the mess of it all.
Now and again I’ll be walking to work and spot a few blades of grass poking out of the sidewalk, and as I pass wearing my sensible shoes, I urge it on. Go little weed, go claim your place in the world and push the concrete aside.