Dirt

“BLACK MESA”,3×6′, m/m

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I love Dirt (capitalization intended).

“Earth” is gentrified Dirt and not what we are up to today..

Did I ever tell you the story of eating Dirt?

I will tell it here again as it is a pivotal tale in my life and you may understand me a bit better after hearing it.

Moving to the New Mexico landscape from Michigan greenery and severely compressed horizon in 1989 stopped being jarring for me after the first week or two.

The place is pretty much space, sky and brown which is a darn sight different than oak trees and suburban lawns I can assure you.

One needs glasses tuned to deeply subtle beauty here; the kind barely visible inside shadows or the dark.

My beloved grandmother, Gonnie, passed away a few years after I moved here and I travelled to Michigan to attend her funeral.

She was born to the upper class but her true “hood” was the garden; roses, raspberries, lilies of the valley, lilacs planted for color and fragrance, tulips and a rock garden.

She pretty much raised me and silently taught me about Dirt and growing things.

Friendship with other women did not come easily to her and I felt the heaviness being lonely can bring

But we adored one another.

When she died I instinctively dug up a pink double-petalled peony plant and carefully bagged the moist root ball cradling it on my lap as I flew home to Santa Fe.

I dug a home for it to live and paused in prayer.

The Dirt was black and impossibly alive

With her.

I put a pinch-full on my tongue

And brought it inside my mouth and, feeling the grit, swallowed.

And cried.

It was the most beautiful form of prayer.

Of course, peonies are much too delicate to live in New Mexico

So..even after my uber-tending

The roots never took

But it really was ok because I have her in me.

Delicate-ness doesn’t last long here.

The place demands courage, resilience, self-sufficiency, silence, reflection on self and other.

If one’s roots can’t push hard enough to get to the elusive water often just out of reach,

You die.

Yes…Earth is gentrified Dirt

And I love them both

More than is reasonable.

My roots were always meant to do the muscular turning and twisting and stretching and yearning and bending and searching

Living in New Mexico demands.

I love delicacy

And am conscious of what it has taken to be in relation to the grit.

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ps- FYI: if you click on image then click again the full detail of each image I post is revealed. 🙂

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