Master Dirt Time

Dirt time. 

Dirt time is a concept Jared and I learned about in Tracker School. You'll be a good tracker if you spend dirt time on it. Practice.

Over my lifetime, there are so many things I've learned and not spent dirt time on them. There are few that I have. I spent a lot of dirt time learning traditional darkroom skills. Now my darkroom is in pieces, much of it stored in a huge plastic bin, about the size of a walk in shower. In fact, I bought that bin late in my pregnancy so I could take baths in our walk in shower.

The bin of photography equipment sits on my parents' back porch. I was supposed to move it before last weekend's family reunion, but kept forgetting until it became a good place to stage a case of Aquafina. I hate bottled water, but it was a good spot. No one tripped over my photography bin/labor tub.

I spent a lot of dirt time on Kung fu, and I rarely have time to practice. "Practeese make perfect," Sifu told me. I spent a little dirt time on Kung fu about a week ago. Four foot long stems of rye that Jared scythed down got tangled around my ankles as I took to the field. Everytime I kicked, rye grass flew. Everytime I fell to the ground during 36 Steps of the Monkey, rye grass poked me. Beren told Jared I was "doing something fun." It was.

I played in bands for awhile. Played in one for years. I played guitar, sang sometimes. I played violin, but never really felt that good. Jared and I began to learn some folk songs. I sang. He played guitar. I "gave" my violin to Jared. My lyrics folder is somewhere on the bookshelf, I think.

I spent a lot of dirt time with Newcomb's Wildflower Guide. I haven't picked it up but once lately. I lean on Jared for the tough IDs. I'm more interested in caterpillars and butterflies lately. Bees, too. 

It seems like human nature, always trying something new. It seems rare to be a master. I suppose I would not be so moved when I met a master, that is, if masters graced every city corner and country cottage.