Working Dirty

On the stage, my act is clean. But in the garden, I’m free to be filthy.

There’s something so human about playing in the dirt. And I mean actual dirt, not filth. I love tearing open a new bag of soil. It smells like earth. And despite new york being a pretty dirty place, it doesn’t smell like earth. It smells like boiled hotdogs, bus exhaust, and dog urine. But give me a bag of dirt any day.

I don’t know what it is, but there’s something so pleasing about tending a garden.

Is it the low stakes? A former manager at Gotham Comedy Club used to tell comics who were freaking out, “There’s no such thing as a comedy emergency. Everything’s going to be okay.” And I think the same holds true for a garden. So what if I over water my lettuces? Sure, they’ll get root rot and die but it’s not like I have to spiral to a deep, dark place where the only thing to keep me company is my existential dread.

Is it the fact that it’s an analog practice? Things in gardening, at least how I see them, aren’t black or white. They’re green. A lot of my world is digital, binary, a one or a zero, right and wrong, black and white, cheese or pepperoni. But gardening is green. Are the leaves a little droopy? Give ‘em a little water. Are they turning yellow? Give ‘em a little water. Or maybe more nutrients. Or less water. (I’m not a master gardener.) The point is, when you’re not so focused on whether something is right or wrong or by the book or not, you’re free to evaluate the situation and adjust as necessary.