Evelyn R. Swett Photography
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Love Letter to 2020

2/14/2021

0 Comments

 
Picture
Goodbye SAT Prep, January 2020 Photo by ERSwett
At
some point
in 2020, I lost 
​my way.
Picture
Winter Citrus, February 2020 Photo by ERSwett
The
turmoil
went to my
head and to my
heart and I
​froze.
Picture
Late Winter Bouquet, March 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Thankfully,
though, the compost
pile beckoned.
Picture
Soup's On at Umpleby's, April 2020 Photo by ERSwett
The colors,
textures and yes,
the pungent odors kept
things real and reminded me of
the beauty of it all.
Picture
Good King Henry & The Valley News, May 2020 Photo by ERSwett
I am
grateful
for extended
time with my family
and with my
​thoughts.
Picture
Early Season Watermelon, June 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Light
emerged
on the other
side of dark, and
we just kept showing
up for each
other.
Picture
Mid-Summer Feast, July 2020 Photo by ERSwett
The
dailiness
of watermelon
& houseplants that
needed trimming invited
calm in the midst
of brewing
​storms.
Picture
Discarded Housevines, September 2020 Photo by ERSwett
And
I voted.
We voted.
​Hope.
Picture
I Voted, November 2020 Photo by ERSwett
And the
Christmas Cactus
bloomed at Thanksgiving
as it does every
​year.
Picture
Houseplants, Early December 2020 Photo by ERSwett
And
we finally
bid farewell to
my mother-in-law's
pressed leaves and rhyming
dictionary she used to
write holiday
​poems.
Picture
Post-Holiday Clean-up, December 2020 Photo by ERSwett
It was
a messy, smelly
and uncomfortable year,
but it will be impossible to forget
2020 and the good that
will emerge from
the all of
it.
Picture
New Year's Eve, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
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The Power of a Single Plant

11/21/2020

1 Comment

 
Picture
Christmas Cactus Bloom, November 2020 Photo by ERSwett
A single
small plant, a
gift in 2003, grows for
17 years, blooming regularly
just before Thanksgiving, as if feeling
our longing for color, just as
the days darken and
trees stand
baren.
Picture
Christmas Cactus Plant (a gift from my mother-in-law in 2003), Fall 2020 Photo By ERSwett
It was
a gift from my
mother-in-law, its

abundance reflecting her
deep love for the keeping & caring
of all kinds of plants. During this
time of Thanksgiving, I am
grateful for her and
for this pink
cactus.
Picture
Dried Blossoms on Paper, Fall 2020 Photo by ERSwett
For me,
photographing
the spent blooms has also
been an invitation to see the beauty
embodied in decay, especially
during the past 3 years,
when she has been
in decline.
Picture
Composted Blooms, November 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Last
week, the pink
blossoms lay beside stale
bread & a banana peal. 3 years ago,
those blossoms lay on fresh snow, mixed with
spent leaves & flowers. I doubt Pam ever imagined the
powerful impact that small plant with its pink blossoms would
have on me. It was this image from 2017 that inspired
me to begin sharing my work in new ways,
including making a set of greeting
cards with a variety of
images from that
​year.

Picture
Dried Flowers, 2017. Photo by ERSwett
This
first 'dried
flowers' photograph
is part of my original "Compost
Composition" greeting ​card collection.
There is still a limited supply available, which
I hope to get out into the world. Please express your
gratitude for the US Post Office by writing
cards to those you love. Rumor has
it that these images make
people feel good.
Here's a
link.
Picture
Mixed set of 8 Compost Composition greeting cards, Fall 2020
1 Comment

What's With the Smile?

10/21/2020

3 Comments

 
Picture
At the Club, 1984 Photo by Steven C. Swett
Picture
Self Portrait, Fall 2020
A dress
worn to a party
in 1984, re-imagined &
transformed
, becoming muse &
metaphor ​in ​2019. With text from Walt
Whitman's 
poem, This Compost &
embroidered ferns traced
from actual ferns
in 
​my garden,
Picture
Reflected Ferns, May 2019 Photo by ERSwett
Picture
Embroidered Ferns, August 2019 Photo by ERSwett
it took
over a year,
for the dress and
the woman to emerge -
smiling. ​
Picture
Selfie, May 2019
Picture
Self Portrait, Fall 2020
Always smiling.
Picture
Self Portrait, Fall 2020
"I am
terrified at
the earth," but I
drink my demitasse
and smile. Really? Is that all?
What an incongruous
sham!
Picture
Self Portrait, Fall 2020
But am
I allowed to show
fear or anger? Do I even know
what ​these emotions feel like? And if I
can't show them when no one
is looking, will I ever
be able to be
​real?
Picture
Self Portrait, Fall 2020
I've
buried them
for so long, always
hiding behind that ​smile.
Don't get me wrong. I've only
recently understood how beautiful it
is. But just as the demitasse is a

curious distraction, so is
a smile 
a fabulous
​cover. 
Picture
Self Portrait, Fall 2020
It
was
only after
these exploratory
photo shoots in Maine that
I started to go deeper. If I am going
to re-imagine my relationship to everything
and ​everyone, including myself,
I'll need to accept that it
won't always be
​pretty.

Picture
Self Portrait, Fall 2020
3 Comments

Why be a Photographer?

10/7/2020

7 Comments

 
Picture
Water 3, October 2020 Photo by ERSwett
It's the light...
Picture
Water 4, October 2020 Photo by ERSwett
...and the shapes.
Picture
Water 6, October 2020 Photo by ERSwett
It's the
mesmerizing interplay of
water & 
wind...
Picture
Water 7, October 2020 Photo by ERSwett
...and
the ongoing
invitation to get lost
in the moment while falling
in ​love with the
wonder of
​it all.
Picture
Water 11, October 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Sometimes
I have to get lost in order
to find what I
need.

Picture
Water 8, October 2020 Photo by ERSwett

How
are you getting
lost these
​days?

7 Comments

Minding My Milkweed, Mugwort & Monkshood

9/30/2020

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Picture
Common Milkweed Pods, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Common
Milkweed is really
not so common. The pods,
like a bird's beak, or perhaps an
alligator's head, add texture
​to the early Fall
garden.
Picture
Bug Exploring Common Milkweed Seeds, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Who
knew that all
kinds of bugs, in addition
to the well-known Monarch Butterfly,
appreciate the seeds. Is this one searching for
food, finding material for a nest, or
just playing in the lacy
​fibers?
Picture
Swamp Milkweed Seeds, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Just
up the hill,
more pods open,
their silky seeds seductively
swaying, inviting me &
​my camera
to 
play.
Picture
Swamp Milkweed Setting Out, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
These
Swamp Milkweed,
planted for the first time this
year, reminded me of the Monkshood I
planted for the first time earlier
 this summer. Their deep
​purple flowers, shaped like the cowl of an
actual monk's hood, captivated
me, as they, too, danced in
​the late afternoon
​light.

Picture
Dancing Monkshood, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
You
can imagine
my surprise when
I learned that every part of
the Monkshood plant, also known as
Wolfsbane, is highly toxic - - & I had planted
it by our terrace, right next to where
we sit! Of course I quickly
moved it to a more
​remote spot.
Picture
Mugwort Blooms, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
It seems
I mistook Monkshood
for Mugwort, a totally different plant,
but one with an equally odd name beginning ​with
"M." Mugwort, which I had thought was a
weed, is actually a well-known
medicinal!
Picture
Mugwort Leaves, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
These
plants got me
thinking. I make so many
assumptions about plants & people.
Milkweed is quirky, but valuable for insects
and fiber artists; Mugwort might be considered a weed,
but it's capable of calming nerves; And Monkshood,
named for people who serve & protect 
is poisonous. 
Picture
Putting the Rain Garden 'To Bed,' Fall 2020 Photo by ERSwett
What is
a gal to do? Every
year, it seems, putting the
garden 'to bed' inspires reflection.
This season, for example, I experienced the
impact boundaries have on the flow of energy as well
as the value of plant placement
to ensure safety.
Picture
Energy & Edges, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
What's
next? I have a 
hunch I'll be digging
into the power of assumptions
not just in the garden but also in the rest
of my life. There are just so many
beautiful plants & people
​to behold.
Picture
Monkshood Flowers, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
What will you explore about yourself this winter?
I know I am not always what I seem.
​What about you?

Picture
Monkshood Detail, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
0 Comments

Take a Bite of That Apple!

9/25/2020

2 Comments

 
Picture
Ugly Apples, September 2020 Photo by ERSwett
A worm
or some other
bug took a few bites 
out of these apples. Question
for the day: Do I hide or celebrate
these 'ugly fruit'? I'm increasingly done
with perfection of any kind, so here's what
emerged. I say, "welcome sweet
creatures. There's plenty
to go around."
Picture
Arching Apple, September 2020 Photo by ERSwett
It made
me think: Who
really said that a bite of an
apple leads to banishment? What
an absurd story. Apples provide essential
nourishment for the body, mind,
heart & soul.
Picture
Arching Apple Tree, September 2016 Photo by ERSwett
And our
particular tree,
a gift from my in-laws
in 2014, bends but does not
break with time. What does it take
to be so flexible? What does
it understand & what
can it teach me?
Picture
Apple Tree in Spring, 2018 Photo by ERSwett
While
I 'compost' 
the
issues -- race, political
discord, economic disparity and,
yes, that nagging issue, Climate Change,
i
t feeds on living mulches, provides
perches for birds & in spring
is a beautiful focal
point in the
garden.
Picture
Abundant Apple Tree, September 2020 Photo by ERSwett
It seems
ironic that this
year, with drought and
psychic tension in the universe,
it is more abundant than ever before.
This portrait reveals a collection of apples
from a much older tree that predates us by a few 
decades (on the left), and a few of our
yummy Honeycrisp in a bowl
made by my husband
thirty years ago
(right).
Picture
Apple Still Life, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
I love
how the soft
light plays on these
discarded cores and peels,
their transformation from apple to
delicious desserts & beautiful compost
a lesson in mindfulness.
Picture
Peelings, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
While
turning the
apples into desserts, I
remembered when our apple
tree first produced five years ago. My
sister and I harvested the entire crop of eight
precious fruit to bring on a cross country road trip from 
New Hampshire to Idaho. We rationed those
home grown Honeyscrip, allowing
ourselves one a day -- each
bite, a precious
gift.
Picture
Apple Tree, September 2015 Photo by ERSwett
We
experienced
joy and a powerful
sense of abundance even
though there was scarcity -- Only
one apple a day. As we drove across North
Dakota & into Montana, we ate the
final apples, savoring their
​crispy juiciness.
Picture
Abundance, September 2020 Photo by ERSwett
This
year, there's
drought. The leaves
are sickly. My gratitude is intense,
but subdued. Will this more fragile tree
break from the weight of it all?
Did I care enough?
Picture
The Magic of a Honeycrisp Apple, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
My
relationship
with this tree is ancient,
and I know it's too late for regrets.
Between wheelbarrows full of mulch I stop
and eat an apple. "Don't worry," it
seems to say. "I am strong
and so are you."
Picture
The 'Orchard,' September 25, 2020 Photo by ERSwett

2 Comments

Please

5/7/2020

1 Comment

 
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.
1 Comment

We Are Not Alone

4/30/2020

4 Comments

 
Picture
A place to share a story, AVA Gallery, Lebanon, NH Photo by ERSwett
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.
Picture
A mix of this and that in community Photo by ERSwett
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,
Picture
Some of what we accomplished this month! Screenshot from Ecochallenge.org
as was
this summary
of actions completed
by the Upper Valley Climate
Action 2020 team in this year's Earth
Day Ecochallenge
. 34 of us showed up and
did a bunch of cool stuff. We were among more than
10,000 people & were 1 of 818 teams. Yay us! But now I'm
struggling with a sense of inadequacy I've felt all
month, a feeling that emerged, I think,
because I was being
measured.
Picture
Textures, Colors & Shapes Photo by ERSwett
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.
Picture
Earth Day 2020 Snow on the Compost Photo by ERSwett
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? 
Picture
Insects having a feast Photo by ERSwett
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...
Picture
Silk scraps from my mother-in-law's hidden stash Photo by ERSwett
...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.'
Picture
Truffles & Russian Teacakes from Umpleby's in Hanover, NH Photo by ERSwett
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?
Picture
Sarah & Chanler make dinner Photo by ERSwett
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.
Picture
The first chives Photo by ERSwett
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.
Picture
More rain and cold Photo by ERSwett
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.
Picture
Selfie at AVA April 30, 2020
Please
​be vigilant,
stay safe & be
well. You and I are
not alone and we are
definitely in this
​together.
4 Comments

Love Letter to People & The Planet

4/22/2020

6 Comments

 
Picture
Sunrise & Seguin, 2018 Photo by ERSwett
The sun
rises and sets,
oblivious to us & our
​endless admiration. So today ​we
express gratitude to and honor 
that sun
and all 
that makes our lives possible, including
the food 
we eat & the fibers we wear. The
sun & the earth do not have a say
however, and must take
whatever we
give.
Picture
The Golden Hour, 2012 Photo by ERSwett
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,
Picture
Anniversary Hot Air Balloon Ride, 2005 Photo by ERSwett
as are
the gardens
that emerge in old
mines & around old homes.
The shapes and colors captivate &
each photograph honors the play of light
on the textures & forms that we
create. But these scenes 
are all about us &
​the imposition
of our will.
Picture
Butchart Gardens, Victoria BC Photo by ERSwett, 2011
Picture
Kew Gardens & Chihuly, May 2019 Photo by ERSwett
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.
Picture
Lilacs, 2010 Photo by ERSwett
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.
Picture
Solarscape, 2015 Photo by ERSwett
I
admire
how light & the
sun generate power in
​panels & reflections
on windshields.
Picture
Windows & Windshields, 2016 Photo by ERSwett
I love
how that same
sun sets on the ocean,
creating reflections on water,
food for animals &
enjoyment
​for us.

Picture
Mexico, 2016 Photo by ERSwett
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.
Picture
Galapagos Islands, 2011 Photo by ERSwett
Cheers!
Picture
Gram's Cool Purse, 2014 Photo by ERSwett
I love
how there
are bags decorated
with flowers that become
gifts from generation to generation
and I love that we can travel to far away
places to buy intricate textiles for
our children to use & enjoy
for generations to
come.
Picture
Textiles in Ecuador, 2011 Photo by ERSwett
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. 
Picture
The Herb Garden, 2018 Photo by ERSwett
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.
Picture
Rhubarb, 2017 Photo by ERSwett
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.
Picture
Funny Guy at the Lebanon Landfill, Earth Day 2020 Photo by ERSwett
And
when at the
Lebanon Landfill this
morning, this funny little guy
seemed to say "Happy Earth Day, Lyn.
I'm in good hands here. These people know what
they are doing. And when they burry  me, I'll still be here
50 years from now."  There he was, sticking out
of the molded mountain of waste
on which I stood, ensuring
that I not forget.

Picture
Rhubarb & Pea Pods, 2019 Photo by ERSwett
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.
Picture
Sunset over Vermont Photo by ERSwett
6 Comments

Easter Signs, 2020

4/9/2020

0 Comments

 
Picture
Jammed Singer, Damned Masks 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Last week,
I'd had enough.
While attempting to
make masks, my sewing
machine jammed, a sure sign
that it was time to stop, and when I
tried to stitch the outline of a photograph of
myself onto that silk dress I've been
working on for a year,
it was a mess.
Picture
The Misshapen Hand Photo by ERSwett
I was done.
We'd been home
together for almost a
month and I was frazzled. So
first I took myself for a walk and
called my sister. Then, when I got home,
I made pizza, got out some wine and shared
my exhaustion. "What can we do?" my son asked.
How cool is that? We then created a plan for who would
cook which night; We talked about Mom's limits...
and there are many. And, by the end of the
meal we got it - We are definitely in
this whole weird Covid-19
thing together.
Picture
Pizza Dinner with Wine & Good King Henry, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Even
so, I still felt
untethered on Easter,
so went for another walk, but
longer this time, and wondered if I would
experience any signs to guide me,
this being a mystical time
and all...and sure
enough...
Picture
The People's Car, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
First,
there was
this VW hubcap
just sitting on the railing.
VW - Volkswagon - A car for
People. OK. Got it. One reason this
crisis is so hard to manage is that it impacts
all of us, but some more than others.
Actively helping those in need
doesn't feel like enough.
There it is, that nasty
need to do more,
always do
​more.
Picture
Rusted Iron on West Wheelock Street, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
Next, 
this rusted
handrail, unloved
and imperfect, but still
able to provide support. To me
its textures and shadows are captivating
and reassuring. Perhaps this time is forcing me
to confront my own perfect imperfections
and celebrate this undeniable fact
that I can't not see beauty
even in worn out
things.
Picture
Water Management, Dartmouth College, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
And then
there was this
green sandbag with
its mate up the hill -- one
a snake, the other a donut. They
clearly serve a purpose, having something
to do with water management, but there in the woods,
coming up from the Connecticut River, they
seemed so strange. The first bright
green on this early
​spring day.

Picture
Blue New York Times, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
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.
Picture
Pink Ribbon, Pine Park 2020 Photo by ERSwett
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? 
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
Picture
The more
strange markings
I witnessed, the more
amused I became. Here I was
hoping for 'a sign' and I got way more
than I bargained for. Is it true that Signs, of
the mystical kind with a capital "S," are only as
meaningful as we make them?  Signs appear because
​we look for them when we need them. In this
case, it seems, all these colorful signs were
merely there to remind me that I am
in control of how I interpret not
just these markings, but
this crazy time
​as well.
​
Picture
The Green Poop Bag, Hanover Golf Course, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
And then,
when I emerged
from the woods and was
on my way home, 
this green doggy
poop bag was swinging in the wind on these
bright red twigs. Really? Clearly this is
a sign that sometimes there
are just weird things
blowing in the
wind.
Picture
Co-Exist, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
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.
Picture
Beets & Lettuce, 2020 Photo by ERSwett
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    Evelyn R. Swett
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    compost re-imagined
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