Playing in the dirt

I think it is pretty clear that guys like to play in the dirt.  At least, women doing laundry say so.  It's one of those things when, as kids, we grabbed shovels and dug fox holes, made freeways for Hotwheels, or some sort of mound to jump our bicycle on.

In later years, some of us don't want to be at the back end of a shovel as much.  I anticipate that reason is because using a shovel now is due to some sort of calamity; water sprinkler fighting, finding the septic tank, or the cursed "that plant looks better over there."  But, if it involves cleaning up a berm or making a waterfall in the dead spot in the yard, that isn't so bad.

We've been doing track preparation for awhile now.  Last night, we picked rocks, put out the sprinklers, and filled in some ruts.  It felt good.  Walking the track was a pleasure, although our shoes are now filthy animals.  The track looks great and in the next few days we are going to dress it up.  No, no playing with dolls.  Playing in the dirt!