top of page

Earth Dough

Writer's picture: Toby GordonToby Gordon

Two roots thrust themselves out of Earth’s minerals and beached themselves naked under a three-year-old plum tree. The two roots did not belong to the plum tree nor the dying peach to its left. They belonged to a quiet pine who sought sunlight in a brighter, more golden corridor of the garden about seven meters up the hill from the melancholic residence of the heavy plum and dying peach. The turgid and blind ends of the two pine roots, eventually realizing where they were, found themselves yearning to be once again blanketed beneath the giving soil.


It was this ground, this soil, this mud, this brilliant commodity of nutrients and Earth dough that knew me before anyone else. It threw itself upwards between my toes and stuck its droplets to the inside of my legs as swollen toddler feet trotted the uncoordinated walk of youth. This earth I remember. This earth housed the bark bits and an array of nature crumbles that befriended the rhododendron roots that were the dendrites of this underworld. 


In my one-year-old eyes, I saw with untamed eagerness the blooms and the back-bending tree heights and the crows and the deer, and yet somewhere, maybe where mushrooms cease to reach, and the gold-green, glass-green, vascular blades of grass reside, my eyes found a less potent source of awe. Just as it takes time for the death of natural entities to decay into this Tokul soil of Washington State, it takes time for the youth to find appreciation and awe in the soil and minuscule marvels below the mushroom canopy.

19 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

Echoes

Comments


Subscribe

Subscribe to the Parker Press to receive notifications via email when there is a new post.

  • Instagram

@parkerpresshawaii

Click here!

Thanks for submitting!

©2022 Parker School's Official Student Publication. Created with Wix.com

bottom of page