"In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt"

Margaret Atwood’s words evoke a powerful image of immersion in the natural world, urging a reconnection with earthiness and physical presence. Spring is a season of renewal and growth; the soil awakens, plants and trees burst into life, and the air fills with possibility. The suggestion to end the day smelling like dirt is more than encouragement to garden; it speaks to a philosophy of engagement, with nature, with labor, and with one’s own senses.

There is an implicit celebration of effort in the garden, hands plunged into soil, tending the earth and bearing witness to cycles of life. The scent of dirt, so often dismissed or avoided in urban life, becomes a badge of honor, a sign that one has participated in the process of creation and renewal. Atwood’s call is at once literal and metaphorical: it invites rolling up sleeves, getting involved, leaving behind a day programmed by screens and schedules in favor of the unpredictability and honest feedback of physical work.

More than mere nostalgia or longing for simpler times, the statement also suggests healing and interdependence. The earth sustains, accepts, and rewards our labor with beauty and nourishment; humankind, in return, is reminded of its place in the grand cycle. There is also a subtext of resistance here, the idea that losing touch with the earth may impoverish not only our environment but also our souls. Being present with the dirt, soil under nails and the faint perfume lingering at dusk, we reclaim an essential part of ourselves often eroded by modern convenience.

Atwood’s imagery ultimately becomes an injunction toward wholeness: participating in life’s messiness, embracing imperfection, and finding joy in tactile experience. Each day in spring, ending with the fragrance of earth, is a reminder of belonging, to the land, to the body, and to the endless energies of renewal that sustain the world.