Skip to main content
Surprisingly, there is more to making a compost heap than just tossing cucumber peels out the back door. (It’s taking a lot of energy to resist making hokey parallels and analogies to writing and/or life in general.) I have to decide such things as do I want to make this a “hot” heap or a “cool” heap. Well. Needless to say, more research is required.

The real surprising thing is how much I’m enjoying this project. I’m not exactly the Mother Earth type. I wear Birkenstocks only because they are comfortable. Seriously. I can’t imagine driving a Volkswagen van. I have never owned anything tie-dyed. (There are probably more hippie stereotypes that I’m missing, but those are the biggies. Oh! I’ve never smoked pot, either.) And I am not seeing this as an investment in this land, this specific plot of land that is my backyard, because certainly I won’t live here for the rest of my life and probably not even a few more years. Keeping garbage out of the landfills, enriching the yard a little bit, incrementally – are these enough to give me this peaceful satisfaction? I think it’s way more than that. The future is out there and it’s coming towards me, and I definitely am planning for it. But. Today is also here, and I don’t know how long today will last – and I have to live in it. For me, it’s the equivalent of putting all my clothes into a hotel dresser when I am on vacation: for this week, for this time, this is home.

Er. I think I accidentally made a hokey analogy.

Speaking of accidents, day one of the driving teenagers: 0 accidents, 0 speeding tickets. Aaron concedes that it is possible he drove all the way to his girlfriend’s house (about 2 miles?) with the emergency brake on.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

This has been a very long week -- perhaps 16 or 17 days, at least. I have been offered -- and accepted -- my younger sister’s finished basement for the next year and a half. This will be a major cost-saver for me and a big help for her (she has two toddlers and is expecting a baby in August.) So that was a humongous start to the week. My other sister and her teenaged son have had to make some really hard decisions. She gave me permission to quote her: “spent yesterday at the hospital with my son. about eleven hours. sitting here writing and rewriting this entry trying to find just the right words. how to explain-- he is not healthy. he is mentally ill. he is not safe at home. none of this really covers it. so here's one image from the day. we walk into the east wing at maine med escorted by security. the very nice guard LOOKS like a skinhead but actually has incredible kindness and compassion for my snarly boy. he tells us gently that he has to check ian for weapons and sharp o...
3 comments
Read more

Foggy morning

Next to my bed , I keep a pad of paper and pen (and flash cards and water and ear plugs and an alarm clock…). All the writer’s guides suggest this for writing down middle of the night inspirations. This is a fine plan. I’ve had great results. I’ve come up with solutions to difficult plot situations. Names of evil villainesses. Entire worlds. I’ve remembered doctor’s appointments. Occasionally the light of day reveals something less like a solution and more like the mystery of all mankind: “the plumber trumps! Seventeen children, be aware.” But usually the pad of paper holds something… useful. This morning’s result: One word. Mist. Is it a metaphor for my future? A laundry detergent? A new name for Sprite? A weather report? I don’t remember waking. My dreams remain stubbornly opaque. My subconscious mind obviously felt “Mist” to be of enough import to rouse me to reach for the pen. I even capitalized the word. Hmm. I wonder how many seeds of “great Ame...
Post a Comment
Read more
Life is a little tough these days. Taking a break. I will be back with more tales of grasshoppers and compost heaps and scrabble games soon.
17 comments
Read more