Feeling life...with one's bare hands.

The slow, methodical pace of gardening. I love it. On my hands and bended knees. One might think. I'm praying. Because I am at peace. Paying homage. To Mother Earth. By taking off my gloves. And feeling. The dirt. From which springs life. Gardening. Gardening. Brings me abundant pleasure. I've known prolific gardeners. In my own neighborhood. They thrived. They survived. Into their 80s and 90s. Seeking comfort. In their gardens.  Feeling life...with one's bare hands. --Jim Broede