Tuesday June 24th 2014 Tim
The Compost Piles are drying out very slowly, but now
I think I've been adding too much soil to them. There's always a
German word for this sort of dissociation between the dream world and a
reality. Not a pleasant experience, but quite obviously I have been in a
fugue state around Compost Piles for some months. My imagination had
dwelt heavily upon their well being and had produced a very fine compost
that would melt in the fingers and would function as a dainty top
dressing. I saw my compost as milk chocolate brown, it smelled of
good earth, and under no circumstances did it contain Mushroom and Toad
Stool, or sinister white strands, or Millipedes the length of my foot.
Nor had I envisioned Moles growing fat on them.
There's a story of
Alfred, paramount chief of the Wessex Tribes. Following a
defeat he took refuge in a cave, and there, while pondering
the futility of existence, he swatted at a Spider's web.
The Spider rebuilt her web, and each time Alfred swatted at
it, the Spider would rebuild it. Alfred took the lesson to
heart, saw his mission on earth more clearly, and went on to
lead Wessex to a series of victories against the Viking. I
too spend a great deal of time in my cave, and I too have
occasionally swatted at a Spider's web. My own Spider is not
big on rebuilding it. There's no rushing out to repair the
damage, and clearly my own Spider is too cynical to inspire
me toward greater efforts around Compost Piles. There is one
good thing though, we have a multiplicity of Honey Bees.