I trundle a wheelbarrow in the dark before dawn or after dusk, bold as a thief, hauling all the bagged leaves and clippings back to feed the compost pile. I put the garden beds to sleep last week, 8 inches or more of dark composted leaves and grass, a sprinkle of cover crop seeds. As one pile goes down and is spread the new one grows waiting to be turned and turned again until it is spread in the spring. So much treasure set out on the curb, so much potential cast away. And me with my barrow and slippers hauling it away, feeling I have gotten away yet again when I close the gate behind me and see my haul of overstuffed bags!

cheers,

b

Writer, walker, poet, educator. Commercial fisherman, builder, donut maker, organic grower. Boston, U. City, Maine, South Africa, Madrid.

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