Posted by Elizabeth

Yesterday I was flipping through my friend Joann’s online photo album, a chronicle of her recent trip to New Orleans.  There, under a sunny snapshot of sherbet-colored homes, part of the post-Katrina reconstruction effort, were the following words:

Some of the best things in life are friendly to the planet.

I couldn’t help but be drawn to the simplicity of this message.  It is amazing how the act of treading lightly embodies simplicity (remember that old “reduce, reuse, recycle” campaign?).  Not only is it beneficial to our home here on Planet Earth, but it’s good for our soul, our spirit, and our state of mind.  In fact, I can think of nothing simpler than the act of making the old new again.  That’s what I had in mind as Maikael and I constructed our compost bins last weekend, one of countless projects that have been on the proverbial to-do list for years.  We chose the simplest – and cheapest – design possible, twelve feet of chicken wire wrangled into an oval, which now rests in a shady corner of our yard under a tree that sheds lantern-shaped pods.  As a warm fall afternoon warmed my skin, I uprooted the leggy remains of our garden, the lolling heads of blackened tomato plants drooped over their cages, the result of a recent cold snap.  These would form the bottom layer of our compost bin, and if all goes according to plan, will be transformed to loamy mulch and returned to the ground once again come spring.  A simple compost bin contains all the complexities of the circle of life.

But even the simplest things in life require maintenance and upkeep.  I quickly discovered that even the most basic compost pile requires care and attention:  it won’t produce anything fruitful on its own.  The pile must be watered and turned once a week, a delicate balance of moisture and oxygen needed to produce “black gold.”  To neglect the pile would result in a heap of rotting ooze.  Organic matter must be carefully chosen, and my daily routine now requires collecting the detritus of carrot peels and orange rinds in a white porcelain bin stored neatly under the sink.  The lesson is clear:  simplicity must be nurtured.  And yet, we often take the simple things in life at face value:  because, by their very definition, they are simple, we assume there must not be much to them.  But to peek inside a compost pile is to catch a glimpse of life, death, and rebirth in action.  I couldn’t help but be amazed that my own two hands were capable of, if not producing, helping along such a process – a simple pleasure, indeed.  And with a little work and care, the rich byproduct of simple living is ours for the taking.

On our way to the hardware store to buy supplies on Saturday morning, a giant billboard stared me down with two giant words:

DIGGING DEEPER

There were no graphics or subtitles; I’m not even sure what the billboard was advertising.  But it seemed like an apt message for the day’s project.  And more importantly, it summed up everything that my life seems to be pointed towards these days.