the trail meandered back and forth across the upper slopes of the ridge , offering me tantalizing glimpses through the trees of the settlement below : scattered cabins among the bright-flowered laurels , the fresh-turned black earth of vegetable gardens-i touched the digging knife at my belt , suddenly dying to have my hands in the dirt , to pull weeds ... `` oh , you are losing your grip , beauchamp , '' i murmured at the thought of ecstatic weed-pulling , but smiled nonetheless .