In and Out, Out and In

I was out in the yard today sifting compost for the benefit of my toddler hydrangeas, all three of whom could use a nice layer of mulch if the hot weather comes in July. Which it might. Which it often does. Hope is not a plan, of course, but with weather it’s about all you’ve got: hope and a layer of mulch. Sifting away, I noticed some cherry and peach pits. Aah, those came from a year ago at least since the only time we get peaches and cherries are in July when the Okanagan—a summer-hot, inland valley up one of the rivers, maybe the Fraser River, maybe the Columbia or the Okanagan river, northeast of Vancouver-- pours forth fruit in the the way Utah used to pour forth fruit when I was a child in southeastern Idaho. Such fruit is part of what makes summer so amazingly wonderful. That and the fact that it’s finally warm.

Of course, it’s possible that these peach and cherry pits have been in my compost for two or three years. How long would it take a peach pit actually to compost, after all? Nothing composts very fast in my experience. This is because the 4-foot tall, square, black compost bin-like object is mostly in the shade (because all the land around the house is pretty much shaded by tall trees), because the air temperature never gets very warm, and because I doubtless fail to buy something to put in the compost bin-like object to make it work faster. But it works, of course, because time itself will bring everything back to some other form of itself: ashes to ashes, and all that.

I really like the idea of composting. A depression-era related feeling that you are saving yourself from having to buy mulch, perhaps. Or, even better, that you are turning garbage, of all things, into something that you need. It really feels like a wondrous form of recycling. Of course, it’s probably all in my head: all those coffee filters and grounds, all those tea bags, all 4 egg shells each week probably don’t turn into gold just because Rumplestiltskin is inside the compost bin working away. The worms, doubtless, hate coffee grounds. The sow bugs would surely prefer the peaches to the peach pits. The mulch obtained probably doesn’t amount to much.

But mostly what the worms and bugs get in my compost bin-like object is maple leaves. I am so rich in maple leaves that I cannot begin to compost them all. I am as rich in maple leaves as the maple tree itself is rich in maple leaves. Actually, I am burdened by all these maple leaves: why does this tree need to make so many leaves? Do maple leaves turn into spectacular and rich compost that feeds the maple trees? I think not because if they did, the forest floors around me would have topsoil and they don’t. So probably the maple leaves, the coffee grounds, and the peach pits all just represent the illusion of some things going in and some other better things coming out. Change: we do like to think of it as progress, whereas mostly, it's probably just change.