Milking the Rooster

I hold a definate sense of being bound to the earth. Not just by gravity, but by something in my blood, or deep in my being. Something about living in interaction (symbiosis?) with the earth and world around me, hand in the earth. The right tools feel like a natural extension of my arms and my intention, the sweet smell of good, well tended earth stirs a passing excitement.

So am I dedicated, to growing, both my self and my garden. No wonder then, given this connection, that in the wet, quiet months, where naught but weeds will grow, I find myself questioning this aspect of my character. Alright, I find myself outright hating the cold miserable soil, wondering what the fuck I’m doing out again in the bitter numbing cold, when there is rare beauty to tracked down, strange wonders and humour that shakes the very belly existence.

So it was that being accompanied by my friends and housemates into the garden was a rare pleasure. And the eggs only tasted half bad,

when Adam proceeded to show my Grandmother how to suck ‘em. Well anyway it was good to see him out doors, even if it it was only to demonstrate his new compost making skills, as gained in a two week course doing a Soil Food Web course in Lismore. Still the compost needed doing and semmes A1 was the man for the job. it was nice to have some friendly banter out in the garden, briefly.

A gardener’s life is a solitary one after all…

This entry was posted on Thursday, August 2nd, 2007 at 9:41 pm and is filed under Blogroll, Compost, Garden. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.