180 Degrees

I should apologize to someone.  Most likely it should be directed to Sam, the previous mayor of our town.  Since he's no longer listening (actually never was listening), perhaps it could just be a public statement, witnessed by blog readers from around the world.  That should be good enough. (See post "And My Mayor Loves Me" 10/24/11.)

One handsome bucket.  

"I'm sorry I said all those nasty things about the compost bucket put on my curb nearly two years ago. I know that you meant well, and I used it for a purse only once.  I've never used it for its intended purpose:  putting kitchen scraps into the yard debris for pick up each week.  My kitchen scraps are way too precious to give to any mayor, even one that I liked and admired.  But as I was cleaning out the pantry in the middle of Things I get to do today, I came across that compost bucket.  My other one was a little small, and I had a purpose in mind for it, so I decided to try this one I pay extra for each month.  I am chagrinned to observe that I absolutely love it.  It's wonderful.  Let me tell you why:  it holds about a gallon; it has a lid that pretty much seals off the odors; it is already brown, so won't stain from decomposing vegetables; it has a handle that is sturdy; it is designed well for dumping with a little lip for ones fingers to grip when it is inverted.  In short, it's a "beauty" regardless of where it came from.

The bottom line is that I love the bucket.  But, Sam, don't even think about getting any of my kitchen scraps.

Beds To Bed

Quilts tell stories.  The design names reveal a glimpse of the plot:  Wedding Knot, Drunkard's Path,  Dublin's Steps, Coffins Star,  Dad's Bow Tie,  Alabama Beauty.  Family history and all its memories are woven into the fabrics.

Leaves--from the earth to the earth

When putting the garden beds to bed was on the Things I get to do today, I began thinking about quilts.  The idea of keeping the earth in the garden covered with mulch or ground cover was working its way into this fall ritual. A quilt for each bed, of course.

Nature's Quilt Design

The trees in my yard have not dropped enough of their leaves to make a thick enough mulch, and our gusty winds that come with fall rain would tend to flap the covers by sending all the leaves to one side of the yard instead of snuggling down into each garden bed.  But the giant Pin Oaks in the nearby park had piled up the gutters by the sidewalk with their leaves for several blocks.  A quick trip with  my little pickup and garbage bags, the results sucked through my leaf blower/shredder to create a fine texture that will stay in place, and the beds were all tucked in the for rain, the fall and the winter.  Nature's quilted design creates beauty at every level.

One Potato, Two Potato

Potatoes are cheap.  "Small potatoes" means "not much."  We would not hesitate to toss them out, especially if they look like they're 90-year-old potato heads with all sprouts and no teeth.

I don't know beans about what makes a seed potato.  Last spring I was gifted with a generous handful of them.  When I went to purchase more at my local farm store, I was curious about what process was used to create a "seed" potato.  The fellow who helped my was more in the dark than I.  I went away wondering if it was all just a hoax.  If any of you readers want to comment with enlightening information on this subject, I'll certainly read it.

My technique for creating seed potatoes is to gather whatever is in the vegetable bin that has sprouted and plant it.  I've read that that doesn't work--that once it has long, white tendril sprouts, it won't grow a potato.  Maybe for others it doesn't.  But my mother, grandmother and great-grandmother did it.  So I wasn't shy about telling my daughter last summer that she could plant those ugly, sprouted knobs and something would come of it.  We tilled up a nice chunk of her lawn, piled on  the compost she had been cooking for a year and mixed it in.  Even with only first-time-potato-planting skills, she looked like a pro.

Part of the harvest

The rest was left to the potatoes to do what they naturally do when covered by earth and giving a little water from time to time.  They grew. They blossomed.   And toward fall the frost took the tops down.  Since they were planted rather late in the season (middle of July), there was some question about whether or not they would "potato."  Fruits have to mature and ripen.  Tubors just grow.  It's not a question of green or ripe.  But had there been enough time for them to tubor?

A crisp, fall day was the moment when the mystery of the earth would be revealed.  Digging potatoes is a treasure hunt and magic show all wrapped into one.   Putting ones shovel into the earth and exposing shiny, ruby-colored food is definitely magic.  I heard by phone it was a great show.

Awesome potatoes

So now this cold, wintery evening months later, we are thinking about supper and comfort food.   The breath-taking surprise for me from the larder was this generous bag of brilliant red potatoes. "Stand in awe of potato magic" is one of the Things I get to do today.  Our stew tonight has its origins in the roots of the dried up, sprouted dregs of routine grocery shopping from last summer.  ...three potato, four.  Five potato, six potato, seven potato more.

And My Mayor Loves Me

This compost thing has me really smoking.  And if you knew what I think about smoking, you'd know this is not good.  But dwelling on the negative goes against nearly every grain of my fiber so I've found a way to turn this thing around.

You remember how excited I was at the 1st of October over the fact that my  mayor was going to give me my very own brand new compost bucket.  I thought that was sweet.  And generous.  We won't go into how much it cost the mayor (by that I mean every citizen in town) to provide me with a compost bucket.

Taupe and tan are this season's new fashion must-have.

Wednesday it was delivered.  I found it sitting there on the curb next to the empty yard debris bin.  I loved the color immediately, though the size had me worried.  My whole thing about a new bucket was having it sized so the liners could be recycled bags from the produce I buy, as in "reuse".  The pretty bucket looked too big.  Once in the house, a quick test confirmed it.  Too big to fit any of the bags that come home from shopping.  My heart sank.

But what is this inside the bucket?  A four-color, professionally designed brochure on how to put kitchen scraps into a bucket.  And FOUR coupons for PURCHASING biodegradable plastic or paper liners for the bucket. They want me to BUY liners? Whatever became of Reduce, Reuse, Recycle?  My temporary gallon can/compost bucket is now on permanent payroll.  Just goes to show you not to lose heart over your temp employment situation.  You never know when a sudden turn of events will put you on full time.

I'm going to rethink my neighbor's suggestion.  My new compost bucket is going with me grocery shopping--as a purse--it's on the list of Things I get to do today.  If you'd like to show your support of the mayor's program, I'll see you at the market with yours.

Life, Death and Beyond

Filled bucket and liner

Saturday was the beginning of the ban in our town.  Sounds like it could be serious.  For some it was.  Those who need to carry their goods in a plastic bag when they leave the big stores are out of luck.   On Saturday plastic was no longer an option.  Arguments for paper or plastic will go on for as long as the arguers have breath.  That discussion is not the point of my thoughts.  It was, however, the trigger for looking at what I do with the still-legal produce bags from my local market.

While making breakfast, first of the Things I get to do today, I reach for the compost bucket--the final resting place for the egg shells.  The liner for my current bucket is a plastic bag in its second life time.  It feels pretty good to repurpose in this way (see post:  Love My Mayor), but revealing the full life cycle of these bags seems appropriate based on the recent momentous events in city hall.

Filled liner ready for visit to the compost

Compost bucket is full.  Liner (plastic bag) and its contents (kitchen scraps ready for their own next incarnation) go into the hen pen to the compost bin.  The bin is one of those big black, plastic, lidded contraptions sold by Metro over the last dozen or so years.  It reminds me of a giant version of the shiny black head-gear worn by an ominous villain who made sucking, raspy sounds when he breathed so I call it the "Darth Vader."

After the bag has given up the contents of its belly to Darth Vader, it can no longer go back to the kitchen. It is rinsed out at the rain barrel, checked for major holes and tied onto the fence by the path.

Plastic bag on its way to heaven.

Dozens of dogs and their owners, dog sitters, dog walkers, runaway dogs and random people use this path every day.  At times some have been a bit careless about picking up after the four-legged critters.  I put up a little sign to remind them that the dog, no matter how devoted to them, cannot clean up after itself, and I provide these third-time-around plastic bags for the job in case they forgot their own.  For a final resting place and an afterlife, is that heaven or hell?

Love My Mayor

Right up on top of the list of Things I Get To Do Today is get a new compost bucket.  Compost buckets don’t wear out.  So here’s the scoop.

Bought a “Buddy” bucket 25 years ago (its name was on the label).  It’s still in excellent condition.  Stopped using it awhile back since the plastic bags from the grocery produce department that I wanted to recycle as liners didn’t fit.  Just thought the liners were a good idea.  Got chickens.  Ended up using the better fitting bucket for jobs at the hen house.  Found the old bucket and said to myself that liners were wasteful; it could be rinsed out after emptying each time.  No need to be lazy here. 

All is well.  Used the buddy bucket and rinsed it, etc. for several months.  Prepared to fix dinner one night and hauled the bucket from its place under the sink onto the counter where the vegetable trimmings could drop in easily and efficiently.  FLASH THOUGHT!  Did I set this bucket down in the hen pen when I was emptying it into the compost bin last time?  Little pictures in my mind: bottom of the bucket on ground in hen pen—bottom of the bucket on my kitchen counter.  Big OOPS! 

The important function of the bucket liner became clear.  Liner goes to the hen pen and into the recycling.  Bucket stays in the kitchen.

Yesterday’s mail brought us “The Curbsider—Special Edition” with info about our city’s new plan to compost food scraps with our yard debris.  Going to let us give them up for collection every week now, they are!  Let it be hereby known I jealously guard my food scraps.  They go back into the ground and get to try again as new vegetables.  Not giving one onion skin or apple peel to my city, the mayor, the Bureau of Planning and Sustainability or the director of that bureau!

But when I open the flyer, I see illustrated the handsome tan and brown compost bucket that will be mine October 31, gift of the mayor, the director, the Bureau of Planning and Sustainability and my fair city.  How did they know? How much did they have to pay to arrange a new compost bucket for just me?  Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Vacuuming the gutters!

Whoever heard of such a thing?  This I have to share.  I'm so excited about a recent discovery that the leaf blower found in Aunt Alice's garage after she died 15 years ago and immediately claimed by me, will not only blow the constantly-falling curly black locust leaves off the patio every day from Spring to Winter, but with a slight change in parts (more about that in another post) will also vacuum the blown hedgerow of buttery golden "petals" into a tidy bag which can then be emptied into the garden bed to help make fat, healthy vegetables next summer.

So after a month or so of no rain and now Fall's gentle cooling shifting the possibility of precipitation, I added "check the gutters" to the carefully written page of Things I get to do today.  After readying the ladder and the blower-now-vacuum with its catcher bag, I had the great satisfaction of sucking up the leaves that filled the gutter to over the brim.  What is it that is so fun about making a pile of something just disappear completely?  My heart nearly skipped a beat with the delight of it all.  Just slur-r-r-r-r-r-p and it's gone!