“When the April wind wakes the call for the soil,
I hold the plough as my only hold upon the earth,
and, as I follow through the fresh and fragrant furrow,
I am planted with every foot-step,
growing, budding, blooming into a spirit of spring.”
– Dallas Lore Sharp, 1870-1929
To watch the soil turn over in the spring, whether by horse power with mane and tail or horse power with tires and engine, is to know my own inner soil needs turning upside down as well. A grip on the handles of the plow connects the dirt and the soul.
The fresh earth ploughed, its face once hidden, surfaces, teeming with life. There is the glisten of moist dirt, the wiggle of worms slithering quickly back into the depths, the roots of the old giving way to the nurture of new planting.
The spirit buds and blossoms once the soil is turned and smoothed into its new position, ready for seeds that will be fed from the heavens. As the worm forgives the plow, so we are forgiven for turning things upside down. We must start over to bloom. We are ready to get our hands and feet dirty in order to be fruitful.