This past week Angela and I dodged rain storms and got out to plant a few cool-loving seedlings that were outgrowing their pots. As we dug she asked one of those burning questions of life: "Mom, how come soil doesn't smell?" Hmmm. She clarified. "I mean, considering everything in it is dead and decomposing, it should smell, but it doesn't." In my great maternal wisdom, I replied sagely, "Well, it does smell. We just don't notice it because we're used to it. For us it's the smell of nature. I mean, different soils are different, and this is the only soil we're used to. But I remember being shocked and even a little shaken to find truly red soil down south last time we went on a road trip to Florida." Really. I remember being quite put off my equilibrium. I don't want everyone to think I'm flakey, but really. It seemed wierd. I hadn't realized until then how connected I was to the soil, and how something so ubiquitous and inconspicuous could, well, ground me, and the lack of familiar soil could shake me - at least a little. I continued to Angela, "Everything in soil is already decomposed so it doesn't stink. But the smell of soil is just so familiar to us that we don't notice it anymore. But it's the smell of LIFE." She seemed to accept my pearls of wisdom, but a moment later I heard her speaking incomprehensible words: "quarter of results...the deal in Decem...said that...intupled from $428 million..." I looked over at her. She was leaning over a tiny scrap of paper. "...AG analysts... give a boost... IPO activity...lagged behind." Everything decomposed already? Apparently not ALL of last year's mulch. OK. So soil smells like LIFE and the Wall Street Journal.
Welcome to Growing Goodness! This website is dedicated to growing good things, both plants and children. It's a gardening blog with maternal overtones, as I discuss the goodness and value of plants, both wild and domestic. In the process I hope to help you pass a love of nature on to your children. Happy Gardening!