The Yuky part of the compost

Where've you been? Have you given up on gardening?

I bet you might been wondering. 

Well, this whole climate change-global warming has got me down in the depth of the nasty compost. I've been pondering the possibilities that my planting zone will change numbers. And that just isn't hip.

I've been trying to figure out how to stay inspired.  In January when we the abominable snow dude came to visit, I took out my seed catalog and started thinking about planting things I wished that I had right then to eat.

Imagine my surprise when my seeds came in this spring : Rutabaga? Hutterite beans?

Well, I heard somewhere that rutabaga made a good base for bean soup

It didn't seem too hip in the spring to look at these seeds, but I was thinking about the long stretch and the next possible visit by the abominable snow dude, his spouse and children.  Sigh! 

Just let that set in for a minute. The whole family of abominable snow people next year! 

Yeah.

It's enough to make you want to sell the farm and move to Hawaii. How hip would that be?

So, I've been on a journey through the dark part of the compost, right in the places before it turns to that black gold we love to incorporate into our soil. This is the yuky stuff.

So I've been focused on another principle of hip urban farming...

Making your own!

I've been sewing, knitting, making lotion, dishwasher  soap.

I've also been telling myself stories to keep me trudging through all the yuky stages of compost creation.  Yep! New stories to live by that explain how I got to this yuky place and how I can get out of it.

Storytelling is something hip that you can do on a dark night. Retell an old story in a new way, where you are the shero/ hero. I mean you are the main character of your life.

So I write a story or two and then I put some plants in the ground, make my own clothes, socks, lotion and then go water the crops. Sooner or later this is all gonna be black gold and I'll pour some compost tea on the crops.

Truly, that will be hip.