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April 4th  2011    Tim Candler

    A garden can never get enough compost.  The temptation is always to head to the hardware store and buy feed.  But I wonder what happens when the wealthy have so tied up our world that access to a hardware store requires a membership fee.

    I can see it now.  There I will stand with my tin cup pleading for an ounce or two of bone-meal as the well dressed emerge with their shopping carts. 

     Last year was so dry compost piles desiccated.  They became like little thatched roofs.  Good shelter for mice, which is probably why this year I have yet to slice up a Salamander.

    But I have killed a garden Toad.  He was fast asleep in last years Potato patch.  He opened an eye and we recognized each other. I had cut off his hind legs with the shovel, and I had to finish him.

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