that there is black gold my friends. compost is, by definition, decayed organic material. there are loads of things we deem as trash, throwing away into our ever-expanding landfills, that can be composted into nutrient rich soil additives. if you have a green thumb, you most likely know all about the laundry list of goodness that compost can bring to your growing plants and gardens. but even if you don't garden, even if you live in a studio apartment with no backyard in sight, even then, you can benefit from the wonders of composting.  so not only does compost help our greens grow, it's also an amazing way to minimize your waste on a daily basis.

if you are blessed enough to have a yard, you are also blessed with yard waste. branches, leafs, dead plants... these are all things that can be composted. when composting, we call these dead plants from the yard our browns.  they bring the pile an important source of carbon. to have an efficient compost pile that decays quickly, we need a mix of both browns and greens. our greens are high in nitrogen, our greens consist mainly of our food scraps. you can compost almost any kind of food. when your pile is in the backyard however, you want to avoid meats, cheeses and oils. these things are stinky, and they attract animals... neither of which are cool when composting.  one of the main concerns is stench. everyone has this idea that compost piles are horribly smelly. this just isn't true when you're composting correctly.  if you're composting correctly, a proper pile will smell like dirt and will turn into the black gold you see pictured above in as little as 6 weeks.

how about us urban dwelling folk? we still have plenty of food scraps but nowhere to make a compost pile. worms. worms! worms can eat your food scraps, they can and they will. they are hungry. and ridiculously easy to maintain. the fancy term for letting worms eat your food is vermicomposting. it takes very little space and there's no stink factor here either.  you'll want red wigglers, they're the hungriest. and easily attainable from local garden shops.

so start composting. all the cool kids are doing it.

i've got a lot of yard waste to compost

i want worms to eat my garbage

tell me more about composting

i happen to work next door to a place where kids go to get haircuts.

it's specifically for the littles & most of them are pretty dang cute. even when they're red and tear-streaked faces don't say "happy". especially cute when they leave with their congratulatory balloon. balloons are tricky to hold on to, no matter your age. you loosen your grip for one split second. op. there it goes.

although losing ones balloon is so very very sad, is it not the most beautiful thing on the planet to watch it soar soar soar up up up into the bluest of blue skies? i have seen many balloons slip away from the haircut kids in the past few months and have had countless experiences myself with balloon loss. there is a clash, a mash up of grief and beauty. duality of sorrow and grace.

may the bridges you burn light your way.

some people are bridge-burners. not me.

turns out, my bridges are fire-proof. i will maintain and patch up bridges to the best of my ability (and to a fault), replacing rotting boards, fixing lose nails. i've crossed some pretty scary bridges, coming damn close to falling clear off. sometimes, despite all of my efforts, a bridge closes for repair. impossible to cross and eventually disintegrates. maybe i shouldn't, but i'll come back. see if anyone else has come by to fix it up.

a girl can dream can't she.

oh! here i am!

what's awful funny is that no one really could have missed my posts, because no one really knows they exist! awful funny, wouldn't you say?

well, here's the long and the short of it. i'm thinking i should continue to write here.

because? because... well, because why not. and i like to write, because it forces me to think about things. and the more i think about things, the stronger my brain feels. no bees, no honey. no work, no money. know what i mean? of course you do.

finding myself in chicago. feeling two very different things at the same time. one: i'm home. two: i have no idea where the hell i am. i grew up in the comforts of my magical backyard less than an hour away from this city and left for colorado before i had much of a chance to explore the urban treasures this town had to offer. but i'm back, and ready to begin all sorts of adventures.

restart my heart. i've been in this place a while now and could use a change of scenery. suppose the scenery could use a change of me too. the days are getting longer and the light is staying lighter, which helps.

i try to slow down, moving at a blinding pace, everything is blurred.

try to alter my course, looking around me... everything is blending into one large in-distinguishable mass.

try to gently open my eyes while keeping my eyes wide open, my eyes have felt so heavy lately. the longer i'm here the harder it seems to be to be an observer, an adventurer of my surroundings. if i pick up and go will it change? if i root down and stay will it not? i will make attempts to keep my eyes and my heart as open as possible. that may be the only way for me to see where i need to go, to see what i feel compelled to do with myself.

i watch others follow their paths and try to follow, but their path isn't mine. their paths are so enticing. my path is overgrown and is serious need of some trail maintenance. if i could only find the tools. maybe i'll sit in this field a while longer, watching as one by one, my friends and family disappear behind the forest edge down their seemingly cleared trails.

i'll sit here for a minute longer.

he told me that his biggest pet peeve is when his nails get long, he was grateful to own a pair of nail clippers.  he called his peers street people, not homeless.  and his neighbors are indians, not native americans.  i thought it important to remember that.  we discussed liberace, las vegas, and family.  i bummed a cigarette and after deliberation decided not to offer to pay him for it.  we dangled our feet and twisted off dead branches from the shrub in front of us.  we knew we were safe, yet both of us couldn't help look over our shoulders to the left, watching to see if we were still alone.  there was a fair share of the matters of fact, and there was even more story retold.  his memory is remarkable.  absolutely remarkable.  his face is weathering into a leathery bronze and his beard without trimming is bone white.  his sweat smells like summer drinking, an empty beer bottle warmed from sunshine.  but i can't tell if it's from earlier that day or from years ago.  theres a calm energy where there was once an impatience, an intolerance for agitates. you can't very well sweat the small stuff when there's all this surviving to do.      

here's where i am now. there's alot to think about, to process, to see, to not see. i think a lot about homes and what it might mean to be homeless. i'm sheltered, but i'm often on the go with my bags full. there are many in the streets who don't have shelter, and whose bags aren't so full. i'm grateful for the blessings i have, and i know that i need to trust the process. always in motion. next, then this, then that, and again and again. i overhear the most interesting conversations.