I was one of those kids who went barefoot as often as possible. During the summer, I would go days without ever putting on a pair of shoes. The bottoms of my feet would develop tough, thick calls. When I helped my parents in their garden, I, more often than not, was shoeless. I loved the feel of dirt and mud between my toes.
I don’t recall my parents wearing gardening-specific shoes during my childhood, though our household did have a designation of attire that we labeled “play clothes” which essentially meant any garment (or shoe) that we didn’t mind getting excessively dirty and didn’t worry about ripping or snagging.