Not to be nasty, but I'm digging my stink

I smell like sunblock and dirt and sweat.

Well, I smell like sunblock, except for those two patches over the bottoms of my shoulder blades, where my tiny t-rex arms can't reach. They're not sun-burnt yet, but they will be if I keep this up. "This", meaning "Biking to work in a sports bra and gardening in a halter top."

When I took this picture, I couldn't see the clouds. The raspberry stalks were glowing from the backlight and that's all I was trying to capture, but when I looked at the image I'd taken on my phone the glow was not evident and the clouds were, well, you can see them. I looked up but the sun was too bright, I still couldn't see them. 

Blindly, I took a few more photos into the sun, just to be sure. 

These are potatoes. (Well, the potatoes are underground.)

In the last five years, weed stopped getting me high. My psych thinks it's because of my brain meds and, y'know, it's fine. I only did it on the odd weekend and I can live without it, but... it did feel nice. 

So I'm hunched over, pushing my fingers into a dirt bed in my garden yesterday evening as the sun is lighting up my veggies and raspberry canes, and I'm looking up at these illuminated leaves that are just radiating. They're glowing. And I'm glowing, too. From the inside, I mean. This warmth is surging through my body and I'm happy. I feel happy. I'm happy I'm alive. I'm happy to be alive right now, glowing from the inside along with the radiant green leaves that surround and tower over me. 

I'm high, I realized. It's been a while, but I remember this feeling. I'm high and I haven't ingested anything to trigger this, my body produced this feeling all on its own, simply from the sun and the dirt and the green growing things surrounding me. Weed didn't make me feel good, it didn't insert happiness into me like a foreign substance. The drugs were a shortcut to that end result, that high, but really that happiness and pleasure already lives inside of me and just needs the right coaxing to come out. A little sun. A little dirt. Some plants. I'm there. I'm there. I'm happy in my garden.

You'll know me when you see me. I'm that girl in the cherry red halter top, crouching under the raspberry canes, smelling like sunblock and dirt and sweat.