Get Really Dirty–Then Get Really Clean



The nice people at Botanical Interests seem to feel that you people could all use a good scrubbing, because they've offered us their new super-scrubby soap, along with packets of basil and poppy seeds (which can also be found in the soap).

Just tell us your very dirtiest story.  And we mean dirt, as in, real dirt, the kind that can be scrubbed away by basil-poppyseed soap.

As always, extra points for comments written in verse.

We'll announce a winner next week.    Good luck!


  1. I work in the garden planting seed and wind up caked with dirt. Dirty socks? Indeed!

    My socks taken off can stand on their own
    Rising faster than the seeds just sown.

    For this is life in a garden
    and I can only hope
    that this little ditty wins the bar of soap

    The TROLL

  2. Of course I get dirty gardening, but not nearly as dirty as I did in high school playing varsity soccer, which was a winter sport. The football team would kindly tear up our soccer field before our season so it was just a mud pit when we played. We would then have contests on who could slide the furthest on their stomach after every game. My mother used to force me to hose down in the backyard before coming into the house.

  3. There was once a glad man
    in the garden
    who collected his bounty
    and wondered
    what profits he gleaned
    from the carrots he cleaned
    when his clothes
    he spent money to launder.

    This is the level of poetry a C in English will get you to.

  4. Wow, these guys know how to do marketing. This is the second blog extolling the virtues of their soaps.

    So, my dirtiest story? I know lots of people who wash with soap that comes from far away. How can you get clean with so much carbon attached to your soap?

    I myself buy soaps from the Farmer’s Market. My favorite is Foxhollow Herb Farm Lavender soap.
    (For those who live in the SF Bay Area)

    So, I say: get clean locally!
    (Now I just hope I don’t win)

  5. There once was a girl from ‘Junction
    To kill weeds was her function
    Purple loose strife was the hit
    In the mud she did git
    And got filthy without any compunction.

    What a day that was. I lost my shoe in the mud. 😉

  6. For three different summers I took students on ten-day canoe trips on the Missouri River without a bath. My hair stood straight up from the mud at the end of each trip.

    Only time my hair has ever shown any gumption.

  7. Well, it isn’t quite accurate to say I didn’t have a bath on those canoe trips. I did take a solar shower with river water once each trip. But if you’ve ever seen the Missouri River at the end of a spring melt, you know why you end up dirtier after the shower.

    Though you do smell a little better.

  8. My dirtiest story happens to have occurred during spring cleanup at my mom’s house this year. The big job was to clean up all the willow branches that had fallen into the front yard over the winter, and dump them in the big gulley at the side of her very ample yard.

    I was wheelbarrowing the latest load over to the side of the gulley, and went over to an area that looked fairly empty. As I stepped forward, was I ever surprised as my left foot promptly sunk — no, no — it was actually SUCKED into the… what I thought at first was mud. It made me fall over!

    Turns out it was used cat litter.

    Totally. Disgusting.

    The good part was that it had decomposed enough that it no longer smelled or anything, but you could definitely tell that it was litter. It took me a few good yanks to disengage my foot (and my flip flop!) from that mess.

    Needless to say, my mom grabbed a bucket and soapy water and cleaned me up… but man! It was SO gross.

    If that’s not dirty, I don’t know what is. You can be sure I’d make excellent use of that soap. 🙂

  9. I get dirty in the garden, but the dirtiest I ever got was on my honeymoon when my husband and I travelled with our three girls and one of their friends. The first stop on our August wedding trip was to friends in Maine who just bought an old farmhouse formerly owned by an old man with a lot of cats who never let them outside. We had to help sand the cat-pee soaked floors. The stinky dirty dust got all over us – and there was no running water in the house. We had to haul icy water from a well to wash off. There was no lavender scented soap in sight.

  10. when you grow up in the countryside, the opportunities for things like mud fights abound.
    one summer day my friend and i were walking back to her house, and we started throwing mud at each other. we rubbed it in each other’s hair, stuffed it down our shirts, etc.
    when we got back to her house, absolutely covered in the stuff, we found out it wasn’t mud but cow poop.
    also part of living in the countryside…

  11. Yes, one can get muddy in the garden. And I have. The muddiest person I’ve ever been around, however, has been my husband, an avid mountain bike and cyclocross bike rider. Many years ago, after one of the first big MB races he ever did, aptly named ‘Mudslinger’ he was so muddy that, even hours later, after an initial hose-down and a shower, mud was still oozing out of the corners of his eyes. Yikes. I can’t really top that in the garden mud department. Besides, our soil here is so sandy, that we never really get decent mud.

  12. Growing up we lived in a very rural area in what in the 1960’s was a hippie commune. Totally off the grid, we didn’t have electricity, phones, or indoor pluming. We did, however, have an (old) outhouse at a short distance from our back door.

    One morning as we were getting into the car, headed for church in our Sunday best, we heard a frantic bleating coming from behind the house. We all ran back there, and could see nothing. Until dad went around the side of the outhouse.

    The floor, which had a rotting piece that we humans knew to avoid, had given way under the weight of my very fat Pygmy goat, Stormy, who was forever escaping his pen.

    Fortunately, since I was just a girl of eight, dad had the onerous task of extracting said billy goat from the fecal matter. Try as he might, there was no way dad could get the poor thrashing guy out of there without jumping down there himself, and handing him up to my mother. Now that is love. Cause if you’ve ever smelled the particular pungent aroma of a billy goat, that’s got nothing on how my parents smelled that lovely spring morning. Some lovely aromatic soap would have been just the thing.

    And I promise, if I win I will give the soap to them!

  13. Coffee grounds heat up my compost,
    They’re gritty, they stain, but I cope:
    When the whole pile I turn,
    I can’t help but yearn
    For a bar of Poppyseed soap!

    (my justification for stopping in at Starbucks from time to time)

  14. I was new, barely two.
    The day was wet,
    the earth was goo.

    Frilly-dressed, Curly-tressed,
    “keep clean !”
    Mama stressed.

    Shouldn’t ought-er, but dirt & water
    called even then
    to this daughter.

    Sit in the puddle – in the muddle ! –
    happy toes in a muddy huddle.

    Cherub-chubby, head-to-toe grubby,
    “Come see our girl !”
    said Mama’s hubby.

    Somewhere in my Mom’s collection of mementos from my childhood is a frilly yellow dress, size 2T or so, with impossible to remove Alabama red-dirt stains all over it. She cried then, but now she laughs & says she should have known I’d be a gardener.

  15. I can’t compete–I just don’t get spectaculary dirty. So, I’ll toss my vote to Laura Bell FTW!

  16. I don’t think anyone can compete with a story that involves stepping in a cat litter pile. That’s not going to stop me from trying though, haha!

    I work in my sandals, I garden in my sandals – it’s too hot here in Albuquerque NOT to wear sandals. My favorite pair is a pair of Splaffs, which are made from recycled bike tires. They are so comfy – I love them. But boy, do my feet get black. I’ve tried dozens of different soaps with varying degrees of success, most of them disappointing in the fight. So, if I see a soap giveaway, I’m all over it. Especially if it’s wonderful soap with great packaging.

    Thanks for your consideration!

  17. Mmm a lovely soap just for me,
    when I am dirt encrusted from gardening with glee,
    infused with poppy and basil seeds,
    just what my dirty hands needs,
    oh and feets,
    and knees.
    yes please.

  18. Playing in my mud pie fort as a little girl. Wow! I would make a mud pie, set it out to dry, then give myself a mud bath. Head to toe mud. I’m pretty sure I had to have a garden hose shower on a regular basis in those days.

  19. wow – I have to vote for Laura Bell as well!

    I can just see that little yellow dress. . . .

    My soap needs are for more mundane dirty hands from weeding, digging, pruning, harvesting – no, I just can’t keep the gloves on! I have a bar of lavender/patchouli soap with a nail brush next to it, sitting on my utility sink in the garden house. I don’t know where I got the soap, but it’s about to run out and I need a new bar to get the garden grime off before I go inside.

    But Laura Bell’s word poem picture is more deserving of the basil poppyseed soap than my mundane musings!

  20. DH and I built our house with timber we (conscientiously, environmentally-correctly), harvested from our family farm. We have a well-used old track loader to help drag the often huge, heavy logs. The danged thing had an annoying tendancy to throw off the right track, particularly in muddy areas. One icy winter day, while helping nudge the errant track back onto the wheel, I had leveraged all 92 pounds of me on one end of a prybar, when (wait for it)-the other end slipped. Before I could register that I was falling, I found yourself on my back, in mud so deep that there was no solid base to push back up from. The more I struggled, the deeper I sank. The deeper I sank, the harder DH laughed. The dear idiot FINALLY took pity, and (somewhat belatedly) pulled me out of the sucking quick-mud. Funny, though, how he suddenly lost his sense of humor when I stalked off to his pretty 4WD pickup to sit and sulk. Funny, too, how quickly he got me home for a long, hot, soapy shower. And yes, he had better sense than to expect me to clean the truck seat for him. Might be why I decided to let him live.

  21. Ahm, need I say, that’s supposed to be “myself” not “yourself” on my back. That sounds dirty-in an entirely different, inappropriate way! Sorry!!!

  22. I grew up gardening beside my mother and still love it. Much to her chagrin, to this day I refuse to wear gloves or shoes when working in the yard. The other day a man commented on my filthy bare feet as I shoveled horse manure into my community garden plot. There’s something about the feeling of the earth between your fingers and toes. Whenever I visit my gandpa, he asks to see how much dirt I have under my fingernails. Oops.

    Tip: If your hands get stained (a no-no for nurses like Mom), dissolve denture cleaner in a glass and submerge the stained parts of your hands. Voila! Clean hands again.

  23. Last September we had a flood
    which resulted in a lotta red mud.

    The mud pies were great
    that my 2 year old ate,

    But her shoes looked like they were covered in dried blood.

Comments are closed.