"To muse, to creep, to halt at will, to gaze ... such sweet wayfaring" William Wordsworth
I like looking at the cracks in the soil. It's certainly not as red in Lightning Ridge as out near Alice.
It is not at all red in this part of the world. This pinkish grey colour.
One would be hard-pressed to use the term "soil" ...
Well flowers are growing in it is must be soil in my mind.