Breaking the Earth open with the blade of the spade, turning it over, breathing the perfume it made. That earthy peat smell, on a crisp Autumn’s morn, working with nature, harvesting plants from seeds born. Watching the blackbirds pick freshly dug worms. While the underground world slithers and squirms with centipedes and millipedes and grubs […]

via Turning Over A New Earth. — Dreamwalker’s Sanctuary