compost talk

the compost sings to me, tralallalaaa, sweet songs from days gone by:  days filled with yearning, frustration, dreams, all turning turning turning into something new.

over two years i’ve been collecting weeds and garden detritus in a corner, much to laughing fox’s disgust, as it’s sat there unturned, forked, or spaded.  he’s obliged me and carted loads of chicken coop bedding onto this pile annually, commenting on the quality of corn cob, broccoli stumps, tomato vines, and more being poor candidates for compost.  and i’ve looked at the pile despairingly over these years, as it’s grown . . . .  with nary a bit of gold in it . . .  wondering if it’s ever going to become anything on its own???  ah me oh my, how i’ve hit the jackpot!!!  it has and it’s all sweet, black, crumbly, worm filled deliciousness . . . .  better yet, there is ALOT of it.  whooop whooopppp :0)

so i learn compost medicine: keep feeding and nourishing the heap, slow and steady and patient, and  one day the treasure will emerge . . .  to be spread over the garden, in turn feeding and nourishing the plants, in turn feeding us, and around we go again.  i’ll carry this medicine forth to the ten fruit trees we finished planting.  first year they’ll sleep, second they’ll creep, and in the third they’ll leap :0)

getting to know the compost is also like getting to know people.  at first we meet someone and connect and there’s a rapport that can turn into something.  like the compost this takes nurturing, which takes time.  often, during the course of such a relationship, we might do or say things that can be hurtful, offensive, or even misunderstood.  we can then walk away from the compost pile, or person, and begin some new relationship, or a new heap.  or we can keep at it.

in the case of a relationship we can communicate with our friend how we feel, throw a fit, tell them what’s going on. whatever, so long as we are honest and open, even to the possibility that it may not work regardless of the effort.   something will come of it though: experience.

just like compost, a relationship is built upon.  fed.  and it’s not all good, sweet, nice stuff.  that’s one sided.  the pile gets loads of poop on it, be it horse shit or chicken or another kind, before it transforms.  and with people it’s the same.  we heap our crap on one another but then walk away when it becomes too much.  the compost has taught me that if you stick with it, through the doo doo, yucky, icky, smelly, stagnant times, it can lead to a beautiful thing that’s dynamic and vital and fully alive in all aspects.  so i sing to the compost and she sings back :0)

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