For weeks, I have been plotting and planning, scheming like a gardener with a secret agenda. My mission was to breathe life into those sad, patchy areas of my yard that desperately needed a glow-up. The problem was not lack of effort or love. It was lack of good dirt.
Yes, dirt. The unsung hero of every garden. While others are out there hunting for diamonds or gold, I was knee-deep in my yard, searching for a treasure of a different kind: rich, dark soil.
After countless disappointing scoops of dusty, pale earth, I was starting to feel like a failed prospector. My yard had me questioning everything. Was the universe laughing at me? Would my plants forever live in subpar soil, struggling like extras in a post-apocalyptic movie?
My daughter, ever the “helpful” problem-solver, casually suggested that I go scavaging around the island for some lush soil. This really just translates to sneaking ‘round people yard and tiefing up dem dirt’. Translation? You don’t want to know.
Tempting? Absolutely.
Sensible? Not even a little.
As much as I love a good adventure, the idea of being caught on someone’s doorbell camera, shovel in hand, trying to explain that I was only there for their dirt (as if they wouldn’t be mad anyways about me taking their dirt) was enough to keep me honest. I decided my gardening glory would have to come from my own yard, even if it meant digging until my arms felt like spaghetti.
And then it happened. A glimmer of hope. Okay, maybe not a literal glimmer, because we are talking about dirt here, but you get the picture. I struck black gold.
Right there, under a forgotten mound of grass, was the richest, most velvety soil I had ever seen in my yard. It was like finding a chocolate lava cake buried in the desert. My inner gardener did a victory dance worthy of an old-timey prospector shouting, “Eureka!”
With my newfound treasure, I filled the sparse patches around my yard. As I spread it, I could almost imagine my plants throwing a little underground party, finally getting the VIP treatment they deserved.
It is funny, isn’t it? We often think of treasure as shiny and glamorous, but sometimes it is messy, earthy, and yes, a little smelly. And that is okay. Because for a gardener, this is the good stuff. It is the foundation for growth, beauty, and a yard full of possibility.
So here’s to black gold, to honest digging, and to my plants, who are probably plotting their thank-you gifts in the form of lush green leaves and blooms that will make passersby jealous. And if you ever see me eyeing your flower beds with a shovel in hand, do not worry. I have learned to keep my treasure hunts strictly within my own yard.
