Trudging through deep snow to dump some egg shells, vegetable scraps and coffee grounds into the compost bin seems like an awfully silly activity when the needle hovers under freezing. But it pains me to throw vegetable scraps in the garbage even when I know it’s too cold for them to break down in the bin. So I ignore my brain and listen to my heart, which is fueled on hope. Depositing the rotting remains is a hopeful task, unlike sweeping the floor or cleaning the dishes. Hopeless drudgery. As soon as I finish, they need to be done again. And then again. And again. Sigh. I am trying to work on my attitude toward cleaning, but I’m not making much progress, can you tell? But! Taking care of the compost? A bit of work now for a luscious garden later. So worth it, don’t you think?

A pile of stinky garbage to some and the ingredients for something fantastic to another. There is beauty in these remains, no?