Confession ( or rather, Stating the Obvious): I’ve been lax about finishing that pesky “About” page. I haven’t yet organized my blog roll. And there are a couple of reader awards that I was delighted to receive, but less enthusiastic about writing the acceptance notes. I intended to participate in at least one WordPress writing challenge per week, and haven’t been consistent.
If the rest of the things on my To Do List received such blatant prompting as the ones I’ve been getting for my blogging, I would be a super-achiever, with a spotless home, flourishing seedlings, and a productive studio. Also, my abdominal muscles would ripple as I accomplished all these things with grace and serenity.
But the universe today, via the WordPress elves, has asked me to share Six unusual things about myself. Acceptance of the Beautiful Blogger Award requires sharing Seven unusual things about myself. I’m not going to wait for the postman to request Eight items before handing over the mail. I get the message.
The No-Acre Homestead is firmly planted in middle suburbia. On 1/10 of an acre, we have our house, driveway, walkway, two sheds, deck, and patio. And in the spaces in between, we grow as much of our own produce as we can. Year-round, and camouflaged to conform to the community covenants.
The pride of the Homestead is our compost. We add all of our kitchen scraps. Even the dairy and meat. The rule of thumb is to keep those last items out, but we have a secret ally in composting. To our delight, last year we welcomed our first visit of the Black Soldier Fly. Their young, the less-attractively-named Compost Maggot, will eat Anything. I never thought I would love a maggot. But now I think to save some fat or fish heads for them when I am cooking, much the same way I save special tidbits for our other pets.
My favorite scent is clean, rich soil. In fact, that’s the smell of true compost, and the reason that we have been able to have such a huge pile of “garbage” piled between neighboring townhouses. Healthy compost smells good. I don’t think our neighbors even realize that our kitchen waste is piled just a few feet from their deck.
I’m a total convert to raised bed planting. Container gardening works for our tiny nooks and crannies, but the raised beds, made of recycled plastic and filled with our homemade compost, are almost magically productive. I’ve been able to harvest herbs and greens all winter, with pathetically little effort on my part. In fact, by all rights, that parsley should have smothered under the ice-covered plastic sheeting. Due to health issues, I never got around to making cold frames, so things just piled up.
Health issues aside, no matter how rough I feel, I always wear lipgloss. Even if i am still wearing the sweatshirt I slept in, that spot of color goes on. No matter how busy I am, the lipstick gets reapplied. No matter how dirty I get in the garden, my lips look glamorous. Is that the artist in me, seeking to create a spot of beauty? Or am I channelling my Grandma, who “dressed for work” in a 1950s era department store every day of her life, despite changing styles and her retirement many decades earlier?
As I look out the window just now, I am happy to see the garbage truck come by. And the recycling truck. Every week, I am again grateful for them. I’ve lived in rural areas where I had to haul my own trash ( although some neighbors stored it, or burned it). I’ve lived in cities where the negotiations to dispose of trash were convoluted and expensive. So it may be a bit strange that trash trucks make me happy, but I’ve got my reasons. You’d think that after a couple of decades of living in this County that I’d be over the whole curbside waste perk, but it still delights me.
So there you have it, folks. Another little smidgen of sharing on my part. Eventually, I’ll have enough to write that “About” page without too much effort. And of course, I’ll be wearing gloss on my lips, and have dirt on my hands.5 Like This