true dirt

Lingering over a leisurely Sunday breakfast of waffles and coffee, reading the book review section of the Chronicle (“The Weather Makers”, by Tim Flannery, on global climate changes resulting from human activities), and watching the rain drip down the window….the phone rings. Lo, it is the California Department of Health wanting to know if I would agree to complete their survey. I would and do. Thirty-five minutes later, I have two conflicting feelings:
1) I feel good because “gardening” is, apparently, one of the activites, along with golfing, walking, and doing yoga, that is considerd to be “moderate” exercise. When asked how often in a day I engage in “moderate exercise” I can honestly say “one hour”. That’s because I spend at least an hour “gardening”.
Maybe it’s just carrying pots from one side of the yard to another, or hauling armloads of detritus from the pile at the back of the yard to the Green Bin and wheeling the bin up the hill to the curb. But it could also be whacking the grass with the electric weed whacker until my arms ache because the savannah is two feet high, or turning the compost.
That is the single most exhausting gardening job I know (ok, maybe digging a hole in wet adobe is Number One but I don’t do that unless I’m forced to). My “system”, the Smith and Hawken 3-tier plastic stacking compost bin, requires me to lift the worm-and-compost encrusted tiers off one at a time and fork the wet compost into a new pile, adding “brown” material as I go. Given the messy nature of the job I am usually adorned in long rubber gloves, rubber garden clogs, old pants, and an old shirt buttoned up to my neck. Oh, and my hair must be tied into a ponytail or else it sticks to my sweaty face and there is no way to shove it aside without taking off the gloves or wiping compost across my forehead with a muddy glove. In the summer I forgo the long pants and just hose off afterward.
If I’m not turning the compost then I’m usually shoveling the ripe stuff around the garden–and there is no help from a wheel barrow; it falls over on the slopes and there’s no easy path over the deck, through the raised beds, or across random stepping “stones” around the borders. I just carry shovels full one at a time. Or else I’m weeding, repotting the plants that have spent too long in too small containers, climbing trees, sawing tree limbs and pruning roses, lifting pavers, or repairing the fences. I’m really glad to know it qualifies as moderate exercise because otherwise my butt is glued to a chair in front of a computer, or sinking into a cushion with a book in my hand.
2) I was less sanguine after this question from the California Department of Health surveyer: “How many helpings of carrots do you eat 1) in a day 2) in a week?”
Except for the occasional soup ingredient? None. Now I’m wondering if this is a trick question, or a stealth suggestion. Eat carrots, or else! Is there some new study that shows eating carrots will prevent heart disease, liver disfunction, cavities, death? I went to look in my refrigerator to see if I had any carrots in there. There were two. Lonely old things.

p.s. I also found a carrot in the compost.