Just happened to look out a window one snow foggy morning this past week to see a utility truck patiently waiting while two men seemed to be exploring the area below the stone wall at the bottom of my front yard -- one man digging away where my property meets the road. They other man was giving what I assume were digging instructions, then he would squat down and move things around before motioning for the digging to begin again. They were both focused and intent ... would dig a while, stop and look it over, dig some more, talk again. It became a pattern. I began to wonder if they had remembered the warning to "Call Before You Dig", but ... they had on those cool vests with glow in the dark stripes, so I figured they knew what they were doing. This went on for a several minutes. (I got an entire load of laundry folded while I watched them.) I think the digging guy even took a "phone photo" once -- or perhaps he just checked the time. Anyway -- it made me stop for a moment and think about men and boys and their bond with shovels. Not sure this bond exists with all men really, but boys, in my experience, always have digging at the top of their fun things to do. Must mention that I always think I would like to dig, but when I get started -- not so much. It's hard work! I have great respect for diggers of the dirt no matter how old they are. Moving on...
I had a garden when my kids were little and we ate everything as it came on – nothing left to bring into the house and have for dinner, let alone preserve for winter. I had to buy by the bushel to do that. Anyway -- the snow peas were our fave. I had great hopes, though, for the Idaho potatoes because they seemed to be safe underground. Should have known better. My son and two cousins of like mind dug them all up early on in the growing season. Having discovered their treasure-- smiling and all sweaty dirty, as little boys are apt to be after heavy digging, the trio came galumphing around the corner of the house dragging a small wagon load of dirt and mini potatoes – so proud. The potatoes looked like those little ones that are preserved in jars. My sister and I just looked at each other and laughed. So much for visions of dinners where the main course was to be home grown huge Idaho potatoes with a variety of different offerings as toppings. I would have to resort to "store bought" for those and everyone who has ever had a garden knows that "homegrown" is always better.
Ah -- little boys and their shovels. Those three always liked to dig – even if there was nothing to dig for. Always a treasure hunt with no map. I had holes scattered about in strange places around the property for many years. You sort of had to watch your step – those boys, especially my son, were like groundhogs as well – heavily into tunneling. Come winter, my son would have won any competition in tunneling through snow banks hands down. He would dig for hours. I sometimes took food and water out to him. I will have to have a conversation with him the next time he comes to visit and ask him if he wants to dig out a few thousand dandelions... or perhaps plant some Idaho potatoes. Anyway... not one single one of them grew up to be a professional hole digger, but I bet all three have a favorite shovel in their garage, and I bet it is dirty.
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