When I was a kid, I loved playing in the dirt. I didn't have the romantic soil of deep brown filled with organic matter a gardener would love, I had tan sand that ranged from soft powder to gritty pebbles. It was dry and tended to invade every crack and crevice. If you scraped down far enough, avoiding the goat's heads and sticker bush bits, it was damp and cool. You could dig into it, but it resisted shaping. It was far, far too changeable for that.
Now, I live where the rains in winter swell clay deposits and where detritus and organic matter are pretty abundant. the soil is wildly variable in color, and it supports plants that tend to verdant, at least until late summer. The plants cover and shelter the soil, and it is rare to see it blow in the wind. Here, I get to enjoy an easy relationship with the earth. It's not far; it is easy to work with, and even at it's driest, it has moisture and nutrients.
No matter where you live, you can find earth beneath you. It might be dry and dusty, it might be black with decay, it might even be sticky and red. Take a moment to thank it. We walk on it day after day, and often we forget that it is where we come from. Bless the soil with your appreciation. Touch it, smell it. We are part of it, and it is part of us.