Belle-mere is off on a jaunt, so I've been walking the dog. This has given me the chance to observe the neighborhood. This is the perfect time of year in AZ. The desert plants are all in bloom and have brought out the hummingbirds, butterflies, and bees. The presence of bees is very reassuring to me. I have baggage about having carved up farmland for our suburban dwelling, and the bees seem to me proof of the eco-system's resilience.
I renew my commitment to tackling the backyard, which has been denuded of its topsoil. We have embarked on composting. The pile is stinky, which the books insist it shouldn't be. But there are other very reassuring signs that good stuff is going on. It's been very rewarding to behold all that rotting and seething. There is just so much action, so much "going on" in that pile. I can pretend I'm monitoring it, but it's just going on without any contribution from me.
It's rather like I felt when I was pregnant. Here I'm getting all this credit for fostering this life when, really, it's not like anything is required of me, except to allow it. But I love that feeling, that at the end of the day, if you've done nothing else, you've at least been the conditions under which something is happening.
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