Creative Synthesis: Slop and New Life

Anyone who thinks loving the earth is beautiful has never kept a compost bucket.

Squishy pumpkin guts. Black coffee grounds. Gobs of gooey matter whose origin as food is no longer discernible.

We load the bucket into the back of the pickup truck and ride to Binghampton where we lift the lid of this paint bucket that we’ve fancied-up by calling it a compost bucket. Eyes averted, we empty the contents into the compost bin that warns, “No dairy!”

Back home I take the hose, and with water blasting, loosen the grip of whatever has chosen to remain behind. Then soapy water in the sink, then drying on the rack. Clean, the bucket is ready to being again: the orange peel thumps into its empty bottom.

What happens in that compost bin I don’t want to even think about.

But there, in the garden that grows between the cement blocks, peppers hang, tomatoes ripen, marigolds offer their lemony happiness. All made possible by that disgusting compost bucket.

Here’s to creative synthesis . . .