As a child, I enjoyed digging in the dirt and playing outdoors.
Do you share memories of wearing rubber boots, digging channels and redirecting rivers around your muddy cities - all the while oblivious to the spring rain?
Do you remember building sand castles on the beach only to see them topple minutes later into the approaching waves?
Do you share a fascination with King Tut treasures, burying boxes of trinkets in a garden corner, dreaming that some future civilization would discover them?
Of the many possible career choices, I wonder if I could have made it as a city planner or an archeologist. For the latter, I admire the persistence and physical endurance that the job requires. You would get to travel around the world, be part of a team immersed in the local dirt. You definitely wouldn't be sitting on your butt all day!
You get to share the excitement of discovering ancient graves ... under a parking lot. Sorry - in Edinburgh they call it a "car park".
This is exciting for someone who enjoys the history and mystery of the middle ages. The only treasured discoveries for me lately have been due to visits from family bearing heirlooms.
Since being an apartment dweller, I no longer have a small back yard garden where I can dig, grow or ... bury things. I have to satisfy my green thumb tendencies by puttering with the potted plants inside. All we need are some colourful, flowering varieties.
In the meantime, I can make plans with family and friends to visit places around the Ottawa Valley where we can enjoy natural gardening sites and annual festivals of bloom. All this without getting dirty!
If you are curious about things that turn up in the spring, visit the blog for The Year of the Rabbit where my nom de plume invites people to dig a little deeper. She has dabbled in the mysteries of creative writing.
Thanks for dropping by.