Thoughts on Dirt and Garden Gloves

I have always loved dirt. The texture, moisture, the earthiness of soil in my hands sends endorphins surging through me. When I transplant a seedling bare-handed, the dirt tells me if I need to loosen it some more, or add more compost. Garden gloves muffle the message, put too much distance between me, the root ball and the bed I am making for it. Carefully setting a perennial or vegetable in place, I can feel when crown and soil level match. Eyes alone are not sufficient. I love the feel of the final act, when my hand moves deftly, quickly through the soil around the base of the plant, forming a small basin that will direct water to the roots. 

Hands at work in the soil connect me with my colonial ancestors in New England. Their harvest was hard-won, contending with stony soil and the vagaries of weather. My hands in the soil are not so serious. It is not about survival. But in its own way, soil is essential to the life I have chosen. When we moved back to California many years ago, I recall pulling up to the house I had only seen in pictures. I did not go inside. Instead, I hunted for bare soil where there was mostly Bermuda grass and gravel. I wanted to know what would be my gardening lot here in San Diego.  

Once I stopped to purchase potatoes from a farmer when I lived in Ipswich, Massachusetts. He was a solitary man, in his forties.  We met on his front porch, he moving from the field nearby and I from my car. He held out a small box of potatoes—freshly dug, caked in dirt. I reached in the box to select a dozen or so. He said to me, “You don’t mind dirt.” I received his words as a compliment.

Still, there are rare occasions when I do reach for garden gloves. Usually, I assume an old cotton pair when I sift compost; else my hands become terribly stained. Leather gloves protect when pruning roses. Reaching around the chaotic webs of brown widows, it is sensible to wear gloves. 

And for those times when you must wear gloves, try these. It is mostly like not wearing gloves. They are stretchy, nimble and separate me only slightly from the soil and so I smile. 

Purchase on Amazon, Atlas Glove NT370.