Let's Reframe: By Degrees

Tempest in the Compost Pile

5/31/2020

 
Picture
The Tempest in the Compost Photo by ERSwett
​There's
The Tempest, a
drama by Shakespeare,
and there's the perennial plant, Good
King Henry. Both white men. Both British. One
an old text with faux leather cover & the other gone to
seed. Together, they make a perfect mix
of nitrogen and carbon in 
​
my compost
pile, 
Picture
The News Photo by ERSwett
Because
it had rained a lot,
I added some old newspapers
to the mix and was surprised that they
were from 2018 - must have been
from the back of the
​storage ​​bin.
Picture
Narratives Mixed and Mingled, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
When
I stirred all this
green and brown stuff
together, they mixed & mingled,
creating a fertile space for decomposition.
It takes time, but not much, if I aerate the compost
by turning it over & making sure it gets good
& messy along the way. It smells like
an old barn, which I love, and
all that work makes
​me strong.
Picture
In Process, June 2020 Photo by ERSwett
We are
in the midst of
a global pandemic. There
are riots & demonstrations throughout
the country. I'm angry, sad and very tired of feeling
complicit in a system I did not design or
choose. Turning compost is my
way of processing the
​all of it.
Picture
Lafayette Square, June 2020 Photo by ERSwett
The
natural
cycle of life,
death & renewal
I witness in this pile is
also context for the other
continuum it includes - - The
shredded news, sometimes current
and sometimes from years past, that reveals
the causes and effects of policies
and actions over time. 
Picture
2017 Tax Policy Celebration, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Mix &
mingle a diverse
bunch of decomposing matter,
turn it over once in a while and you get
soil to renew the earth from which it came; Create
policies that increase inequality and you get anger, frustration
and the perpetuation of an unfair system. It's all right
here in the compost behind my garage,
messy, smelly and beautiful
in a weird kind of
way.
Picture
2 Degrees, 2018 Photograph by ERSwett
In 2018,
when I composted
my Harvard and University
of Virginia diplomas, I experienced
the power of decomposition as not just a source of
life for the earth but also as a source of inspiration & renewal.
What seemed a dangerous & radical act at the time
did not cause the earth to shatter, but
instead freed me to reframe
​my narrative.
Picture
Compost in process, no name yet. Photo by ERSwett
For two
years now, I've
been exploring what
it means to be the product of
privilege and to own my complicity
not just with the climate crisis, which was
the original impetus for my reflections on "Two
Degrees," but also with the social and
economic disparities that exist
as a result of our current
market economy.
Picture
More compost in process, no name yet. Photo by ERSwett
Facing
truths is hard,
but when I go astray,
feeling tired & lost as I do now,
compost keeps me grounded. It is in that
pile behind the garage that clarity emerges: The power
of diversity & balance, the importance of
showing up & being patient,
and the beauty that
emerges from
the mess.
Picture
A Volume of Shakespeare, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
It has
taken 
me a
week to 
craft this
​post. My whole being
seeks balance free from anxiety,
but it is an anxious and uncertain time.
What to do? Instead of leaving Shakespeare's 
volume unopened, I tore it apart, allowing
the narrative to break free and 
become something
new.

Picture
Two Degrees - The First Tear, 2018 Photo by ERSwett
​Instead of
leaving my diplomas
in a frame in the attic, I tore them
up & let them break free as well. There is power
in recomposing, decomposing and 
reframing our narratives.
Sometimes, there truly is a tempest in the compost.
It's smelly & messy & hard to take, but it's
beautiful, too, and I'm ready for
whatever work is needed.
It builds strength of
​many kinds.
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Ready to Work, 2020 Photo by ERSwett

Thank You, Spring

5/16/2020

 
Picture
Solomon's Seal, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
A simple
please & thank
you. A call for spring
and gratitude when it finally
arrives. That's how my
week has been.
A simple
call...

Picture
The shade garden on a cloudy day. Solomon's Seal, Bleeding Heart, Forget-Me-Not & Sweet Woodruff Photo by ERSwett
Please.
And a response.
Thank ​you. There's not
a lot more a gal
can say.
Picture
Leaves or Fronds? What does one call these elegant green shapes? Photo by ERSwett
Still feeling
overwhelmed by
the reality of our 'new 
normal,' but finding solace
outside, with camera,
texture & color.

Picture
Bloodroot, Sweet Woodruff, Forget-Me-Nots and Hostas emerging Photo by ERSwett
And as
happens, when
I frame leaves or flowers,
stories emerge. Today blankets of
Sweet Woodruff reveal the
truth about perennials,
how they sleep,
creep, then
​leap. 
Picture
Cool bird watches, ready for the violet creeping phlox to bloom. Photo by ERSwett
Yesterday,
the story was about
people - - crowds at the annual
Yard Sale where I purchased this dignified
bird, my friend Larry, who gave me these violets,
and Elmer, from whom we purchased
these River Birch trees over a 
​decade ago.
Picture
Larry's Violets & Elmer's River Birch Photo by ERSwett
And then
there's dandelions,
showing up in random places,
a pesky weed for some, but a cheerful
harbinger of health for others.
It's all about the narrative
we choose.
Picture
Proud Dandelion, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
The
dandelion
at the foot of
a tree, shaded by
daffodils feels different
from the dandelion blowing
in the wind on a grassy 
hillside at the
​landfill.
Picture
Landfill Landscape May 2020 Photo by ERSwett
And the
hawk soaring
above that same landfill
inspires a different kind of reverence
than do robins digging
in my yard.
Picture
Hawk at the Lebanon Landfill, May 2020 Photo by ERSwett
I love
how even when
alone in the garden or on a
hillside in an industrial part of town, I
am with others, part of a narrative that transcends
the weather on a single day or my state
of mind in a given
moment.
Picture
Daffodils & Largeflower Bellwort Photo by ERSwett
Please.
May I find hope
in a time of trouble. Thank 
you for the gifts that emerge. Forget
me not. The world is sweet, even though it
can be hard to focus & things feel
blurry 
when people & plants
try to 
share space. It's
possible, ​though.
So much is
​possible.
Picture
Forget-Me-Not & Sweet Woodruff Photo by ERSwett

Please

5/7/2020

 
Picture
No.
Picture
No Smoking.
Picture
No Parking.
Picture
Positively No Parking.
Picture
And
definitely
no bad behavior,
because cameras are recording
even me, meandering around empty
​back allies in Hanover, NH
on this cold day
​in May.
Picture
There
are cracks
in the sidewalk...
Picture
and bricks everywhere
provide structure.
Picture
Yellows
seem particularly
​pronounced,
Picture
warnings
inspiring discomfort,
Picture
until
I look down
& see these leaves
emerge from
the grate...
Picture
and this
tree in a small
garden in the midst 
of it all,
Picture
and 
the word
​Please.
Picture
Please.
One word,
simple & inviting.
Threats disappear. No
more cold and fear.
Just one word.
Please.
    Picture
    Lyn Swett Miller
    ​
    reframing the narrative, one day, one image at a time
    Picture
    compost re-imagined
     Let's ReFrame: By Degrees
    A place where photographer Lyn Swett Miller considers wonder, joy and transformation in a complex world.

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