Playing with dirt

My mind has been clouded with nostalgia recently. Perhaps it is all the Romanticism we’re reading, painting a picture of the Adirondacks as a natural world of the past to which one can escape – an authentic anachronism apart from civilization. During our guided hike with Ed Kanze, I was struck by his child-like curiosity; it was palpable and contagious, our group excitedly accompanying him in overturning rocks to look for salamanders, leaping to catch frogs, and gawking at areas flooded by beaver dams. This feeling has recently resurfaced, my brain sentimentally reminiscing about memories of earlier years, yearning to return to something irretrievably gone.

And so today, after a stressful conversation about post-college plans,

I played with dirt.

I wanted to feel like a kid again.

I collected samples across our property, the dirt under my fingernails a distant feeling of familiarity – a reflection of dirt washed away long ago.

I'll revisit this, but for now, I'd rather play outside.