Earlier
today I shared
my story in an empty
AVA studio with my work,
Casey Carpenter and his cameras.
It was raining & cold, but the light was lovely
& the space welcoming, as always.
I am here, I thought, in
​community.
At last.

The
day began
with a 6am Zoom
call with Natalie Isaacs,
the founder of 1 Million Women.
With 1000 people from around the
globe I joined the conversation. We shared
joy in each other's company & inspired each other
to feel the collective power of our individual
actions. It was the perfect way to
close out Earth Month
​2020,

What
am I to do,
I wonder, with the
joy of being in community
making a difference for people &
the planet and the simultaneous strange
anxiety that that participation creates? For me,
it means it's time to go to the compost,
and see if, once again, it can
help me make sense
of our ​world.

On Earth
Day it was fresh
​snow & a few days later
it was a bunch of flying insects
among the shredded COVID-19 behavior
guidelines sent by our President. Hot and cold;
Inspired & anxious. Is that ​what I will
remember about Earth
Month 2020? 

Measurable
data, whether from
an ecochallenge or a global
health crisis, is real & understandable.
When it comes to climate, I feel good that I have
done something to increase biodiversity or decrease waste;
​When it comes to health, I feel proud that I have
helped flatten the curve. But it feels like
that objectivity actually denies
me the visceral realities
of ​being human...

...like ​the
joy of arranging
silky colorful fabrics into
a 'collage' or the deliciousness
of these treats from Umpleby's, where
I collected compost earlier today
& purchased this weekly
"Stay-At-Home"
​'pick-me-up.'

As I ​ate
these treats, I reflected
on this collective need to 'be
counted,' whether in the economy, in an
Ecochallenge, or in this global crisis. Might this
slowing down invite us to think more deeply about
this connection between individuals and
the collective, whether on
​Zoom or in our
​kitchens?

And in
the process, might
we also consider the differences
between what is actually counted and what
actually matters? If I counted everything that mattered,
I would no longer be living - - I would be
a counter, not a person. It would
be weird.

I fumbled
my way through the
EcoChallenge, just as I feel like
I am fumbling through this COVID-19 
situation. Flexibility and forgiveness of self and
others seem vital, especially when dealing with variable
weather and emotional fluctuations during a global pandemic!
But as the story I told this morning reveals (you'll
have to stay tuned for the actual video),
powerful things happen when
we honor moments of
tension & discord.

I'm
coming to 
understand not just
in my head, but deep in my
heart, that reconciliation with self in
relation to climate is possible, but only when in
community, whether that community is a bunch of plants
or garbage ​or really cool people at a place like AVA.
To learn more about this cool storytelling
stuff, check out Casey Carpenter's
work and stay tuned for
whatever comes
​next.

Roads,
for example,
curve in relation to the
topography, but still there are
roads. We impose again and again.
But from a hot air balloon on this particular
morning, in this ​particular place,
it was a stunning,

This
love letter is
to people & the planet
because Earth Day is about our
relationship. For me, it celebrates those
quiet places where I find and nurture peace,
not alone in the wild, but in domestic places, like
in an intimate garden at home where
​I try to be in balance with
the land on which
​I live.

Are these
solar panels, for
example, a blight on the
landscape, or a work of modern
art? As a photographer, it's all about the
relationship between light, form and function.
As for me, it turns out I am happiest celebrating the
natural world when in close proximity to
structures of all kinds that allow
us to live. I am, I guess,
a domesticated
​naturalist.

My
pleasure
in and gratitude
for the natural world are
immense. And in the fifty years
since we first named a day in honor of the
​earth we humans have learned and accomplished
a lot. We pay attention to air & water quality
& we make time to reflect on our
dynamic relationship...
most of the
​time.

The
fibers, dyes,
and designs on table
runners & bags come directly
from the magical interplay of sunlight
and the earth. It's stunning
and I ​love the
​all of it. 

So even
though it snowed
this morning, later today,
I'll be in my  protected and nurturing
herb garden planting some rhubarb, most
of which we will eat and some of
which may become a
​work of art.

When
I look at this
rhubarb in the compost,
I see the playful and colorful action
of the discarded stems on the surface & the
discolored coffee filters & mildewed orange rind hidden
behind. 50 years of celebrating the earth & I think I, like many, 
continue to struggle to both enjoy the beauty of what we
see while also embracing & actively working
with the mess we have created just
below the surface.

At the
end of the day,
the sun will set, and
the light and energy that gave
me life will move on, whether I am
here or not. I can, however, celebrate the
beauty that surrounds us while also
honoring the true impact
of my life.

Other
pieces, like
Mixed Carbon, hide
in my studio, bringing calm
and delight, but calling ​out for a wider
​audience. Or, my first ​Dried Flowers, from 2017,
are part of a set of greeting cards also wanting to share
their energy - - The cards are calling out "please
write letters, keep connections between
people going, & oh, by they way,
the US Postal Service
needs us!"

Over the
years, I have learned
to listen to my children & am
grateful for their guidance, like when they
unknowingly inspired me to finally seek help for my
lifelong anxiety or when they encouraged
me to actually sell my photographs.
So now, I am listening to
them & my work.

During
this time of
social isolation, it
feels strange to store all
these magical moments in my
studio, when they could be out in the
world for others to see. Because, at their heart,
Compost Compositions are all about community and
our essential interdependence. Just as the
green stuff and brown stuff have to
mix & mingle to create nutrient
rich 'black gold,' so too do
we depend on
​each other.

So here
we are! It's the
50th Anniversary of Earth
Week, we are entering our sixth
week at home as we #flattenthecurve,
and it's time to share the love  & powerful magic
in each of these Compost Compositions.
Please visit my online Store or the
Vermont Center for
Photography.

I am
excited to
donate a portion
of proceeds from all Compost
Compositions sold during April 2020 to
COVID-19 Relief and, in celebration of the 50th
anniversary of Earth Day to ecochallenge.org.
We are in this together. If you are able
and inspired, please share
​the magic!

At this
point, my walk
had become it's own
kind of Easter Egg Hunt, but
instead of colorful eggs, I  found random
objects, each of which felt like a
sign, because I was on a
search and there
they were.

This pink
ribbon, so bright
on the forest floor, but
there, communicating something
to someone, perhaps even to me -- Beware,
I'm here - Don't trip? But instead, I got tripped up by these
mysterious marks on the trees. Are they part
of some game, or do they have
great significance? 

Maybe
it's just that
simple. I am being
asked to co-exist not just
with my immediate family, but
with the all of it -- the mysteries & the
uncomfortable realities of being
human on a planet that is
struggling to support
us. In the midst
of it all,
I seek meaning
and relevance. It's why I
take photographs. It's why I share
my work and my ideas on this blog. Because
for me, it's spiritual. Just as there is power in the way
compost emerges as nutrient rich soil, there is power in
showing up & trying to make sense of ourselves
and our circumstances, with all our
abundant and colorful
imperfections.

Seeking
something normal,
I collected compost from
Umpleby's Cafe and Bakery in
Hanover and came home to process
it. But when I downloaded the photographs
from what had been glorious Compost
Compositions, I saw that something
had gone terribly wrong
with the exposure.
Why now?

Then there
is gratitude for my
sister-in-law, Katherine,
whose recently released book
of poetry, Voice Message, captures her
profound grief at the loss of her 21 year old
daughter almost a decade ago and the loss of all
that might have been, but can't be because of a single fall
on a single day on a ski hill far away. I can't read
more  than a poem or two a day. It's
just too intense right now
with this virus...

Instead
we are together.
As they mourn the loss
of a graduation or a 20th birthday
with friends I think about all the different
kinds of losses and can, I think, finally comprehend
that grief in all its forms is real, but that
ultimately, some is just so
much more profound
than ​others.

A lost
child can not
be retrieved. So when
my husband told me that babies
& other young people are now dying from
Covid-19, I experienced more grief, but am grateful
for 'Woman's Work,' like tending the garden or sewing cloth
masks that will protect us from ourselves (lest we touch
our faces) and each other, (lest one of us is sick
and coughs). It is strange to protect
ourselves from ourselves. At
this moment, though,
what else is a
mother
to do?

So, I
sew masks
out of repurposed
​boxers and favorite old
floral flannel PJs, which were
buried at the bottom of our rag pile
in that funny drawer beneath our dryer
which we so rarely open, but which
is, at this moment, proving
extremely helpful.

It turns
out that making
masks is harder than I
thought. What I am creating
looks nothing like what I see on all
those YouTube videos. Then I ​remember
that we are in a time of crisis, and I
am doing the best I can with
what I have, where
I am.

The other
day at the landfill,
I had two cameras, so
even though the settings were
off on one, the other was just right.
Using the tools at hand, I was able to capture
the eerily empty six-foot social distancing spaces at
the recycling center. In a time of crisis, I think
it helps to have guidance whether in
the form of a spray-painted
box, or poetry in a book,
written by someone
you love.

It does feel,
though, that mothers
and mother earth have super-
powers in their abilities to hold and
sooth pain &, by doing so, nourish that pain
so that it can transform into whatever
it is meant to become, in all
its tactile, fragile
​beauty. 

#frontstepsproject is on Instagram

@Katasasvari can be found on Instagram & on the web

Voice Message by Katherine Barrett Swett - - Please order through your local independent bookstore. I ordered mine through Still North Books in Hanover, NH

If you can, please support those in your life who needs it...whether it's the person who cares for your loved ones, cares for your home, or cares for you. Venmo and a simple old fashioned check work wonders.