Charlie and I went to the Lunenburg County Recycling Center and bought a home compost bin today. Our "Earth Machine" is settled comfortably against the pines lining the back of the yard. It looks like someone buried Darth Vader in the ground with his head sticking out.
I was pretty excited to be taking the next step up (or parhaps it would be down?) into relationship with the earth. Oh, boy. A decade ago I would have coughed cigarette smoke in your face at the very idea of growing my own produce, much less going hoppy with joy over creating my own dirt. The woman who sold us the bin seemed a little unnerved by my request. The pile of dusty, black bins in the corner looked like a theory no one ever planned to put into practice. We were on our way out the door when she said, "Oh, wait!" and handed us our "responsible consumer" bonuses... a lovely green LCRC reusable shopping bag for me, and for Charlie a Halloween-themed plastic pumpkin goblet made in China and purchased at Dollarama.
Whoops.
Well, perhaps not the greenest gesture, but it was offered with a genuine smile and loving intent. So for the eleventeeth time today I returned to my breath, thanked her, and took bin, bag, and goblet home for a shebang of a compost ritual. We sang "Return Again" and shook in some starter scraps of organic, local produce and coffee grounds, then tossed on a handful of last year's pine needles for good measure. It's cool and foggy out today; the air feels soft on our skin. The garden is lush. The foghorn is sounding in the background while the birds sing to a far off sun. It's a wonderful day to stand in front of Darth Vader's head, drink cheap wine from a Halloween goblet, and pray for next year's potatoes.
Return Again
Return Again
Return to the home of your soul.
Return Again
Return Again
Return to the home of your soul.
Return to who you are
Return to what you are
Return to where you are born
And reborn again,
Return Again
Return Again
Return to the home of our soul.
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