When you keep your red wrigglers happy, that is feed them peelings from veggies and fruit, coffeegrounds, garden waste, dead leaves, straw and some nice steamy horseshit for dessert, they will give you the nicest compost in return: fuel for everything that grows. So let autumn do his job, let all the dead organic material rest where it falls. Let blowers and rake untouched, let the worms, bacteriae, fungi, amoebes, microbes and all the small unseen workers in the ground do their job. They make fuel for the earth.
20 oktober 2011
10 oktober 2011
This contraption I invented for autumn play. It's specially designed for racing through heaps of dry, crispy leaves. To hear the rustle and crackle, to feel the twirl around you, to be in the whoosh of a brown, orange, yellow tornado.
6 oktober 2011
The words of Anais Nin are so true. It's what I do all the time. I'm busy all day with cleaning and shopping and playing and nursing and walking the dogs, and cooking and feeding and eating and gardening and when it's time to go to bed I say to myself: That was another busy day. And then I think: But there is one thing I didn't do and that's painting and that's the thing I really like to do, but I don't do it and don't know why there are allways so many others things that are in the way, and just before I close my eyes I say: Tomorrow I start painting. Tomorrow...
Anaïs Nin, The Diary of Anaïs Nin, Vol. 1: 1931-1934