soil

I was very anxious. I knew that I needed to be calm and I thought that if I could go to the nursery, walk into the cool air of the fernery, and stay a while in the green shade with my feet on the soft black soil in the company of the plants, I would be calm. There I would relax, breathing deeply, in the seclusion of the garden. I thought this but I did not go there. Next, a woman was walking barefoot on a wooden bench that was anchored to the ground in cement, balancing as she stepped toward me. I reached up to help her step off the bench and down onto the ground—I wanted to help her balance. As I extended my hand to her, I could see that my arm was covered with soil up to my elbow. My arm was strong.