 Bracelet woven with coffee filter thread and other materials spun by Sarah C. Swett Photo by ERSwett Years ago, my sister and I pledged to not give each other presents on birthdays and at holidays. We are allowed, however, to give each other this or that when the mood feels right. In late 2018, she sent me this bracelet she had woven with, among other fibers, coffee filters. Who knew that coffee filters would become one of her muses throughout 2019 and into 2020? It made sense, then, that when I went to visit her a few weeks ago, I would bring more filters from my compost collection collaboration with Umpleby's Cafe in Hanover, NH.  Washing a gift for my sister: coffee filters from Umpleby's compost Photo by ERSwett It was no surprise when I came to her studio a few days after arriving and found that she had already begun transforming those filters into fiber, testing the differences between the Umpleby's filters and others she receives from friends near and far.  Swirling coffee filters and a coffee filter bag in the making all by Sarah C. Swett Photo by ERSwett It was also no surprise that within a few days, she had given me a copy of her design for A Sweater Somewhat Slanted and had taken me to The Yarn Underground in Moscow, ID to find just the right wool.  Stitching triangles - a mending project and the beginning of A Sweater Slightly Slanted Photo by ERSwett Among all the beautiful wool at the yarn store, I kept returning to this particular pinky, reddy, orangy shade with a hint of yellow mixed in. When I started knitting the first few rows, I realized that this was uncannily similar to the colors of two childhood sweaters - one made by my grandmother in 1972 and another by my mother in 1974.  Handmade sweaters by my mother (left), my grandmother (right) and me (middle) Photo by ERSwett It's a bit odd because neither my mother nor my grandmother was a big knitter. It's also odd that with all my purges and clean-outs, I had saved these two sweaters and had actually just taken them out of storage a few days before going to Idaho. Clearly I was not in charge of my color choice!  So for a week, we knit, together and apart. I discovered that my hands remembered how to create a sweater out of wool and that I could even read and knit at the same time. I had seen Sarah doing this and thought it was one of her superpowers, but it turns out it's not so hard when you're working with a simple yet elegant pattern like the ones she designs.  Who knew? Reading & knitting at the same time during a quiet afternoon moment. Photo by Sarah Walker I love that our relationship is no longer about who's thinner or prettier or more accomplished. Both in our 50's (for a few more months), we now explore our creative lives and the world in general together. We can finally admire our differences and celebrate all that we share.  Sharing the emergence of something entirely new from a dress we both wore long ago. Photo by Sarah Walker Sarah has instinctively allowed her superpowers to evolve over the past decades. It's taken me a bit longer to discover mine, and to let them flourish. I love that I embroidered my first stitch at the same time she sent me that coffee filter bracelet. It was like a subversive invitation to just go for it, whatever 'it' might be. And here we are, more than a year later, and I've embroidered an entire dress and she is working on her second knitted coffee filter bag.  My first embroidered 'sampler' with an excerpt from Walt Whitman's poem This Compost. Photo by ERSwett Thankfully, neither one of us knows where our respective superpowers will take us. We do know, however, that when the shit hits the fan and life throws us curve balls, we will harness our gifts & create beauty out of whatever materials are at hand.  Sarah knitting more of her coffee filter bag. Photo by ERSwett “Whatever our gift, we are called to give it and to dance for the renewal of the world. In return for the privilege of breath.” - Robin Wall Kimmerer, Braiding Sweetgrass  Figuring out the shoulder straps on my Sweater Somewhat Slanted Photo by SCSwett I'm now home & am thrilled to snuggle with my dog and to hang out with my beautiful compost. That said, nothing can replace how I feel when I am with Sarah. I wonder what gifts we will unwittingly exchange next? You can be sure, though, that salvaged coffee filters will be part of the mix and that we will be making it all up as we go.  Salvaged coffee filters drying earlier today Photo by ERSwett
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 handmade wedding ring created and worn by my nephew Henry Edwards A silver wedding band, made with love, to express love, intentionally shows the markings that occurred during the creation process. A pure acceptance of life's bumps and beauty.  Black boots from The Pink Alligator in West Lebanon, NH A beloved pair of black boots bought because they fit perfectly...and felt great from the first moment. Previously owned shoes are wonderful that way. Broken in, they are ready, just for me.  JV girls hockey teams express gratitude somewhere in CT My daughter's JV hockey team says thank you...I love watching them play, going fast, falling down, passing perfectly, missing the puck entirely, they play with joy and a commitment to each other. It's about showing up, learning something new and laughing just because.  fabric scraps from my mother-in-law Love is silly, really. It's amazing how I can use that word to express feelings for such a variety of things. There is love for a life partner, love for a pair of boots, love for a child's hockey game and love for a mixed and mingled set of discarded scraps of cloth. It seems that the more open I am to this strange emotion, the more I am able to feel and notice it - everywhere.  refinishing a child's cabinet When refinishing this child's cabinet my mother made for me and my sister in 1971, I can feel her love - - it's embedded in the yellow and green flowers, dots and letters. I wondered, when I put on the first coat of primer, if I was somehow erasing that love. But it turns out that the act of transforming this wooden structure 50 years later and giving it new life magnifies that emotion. I could have easily thrown this 'toy' away, but for some reason I couldn't. So here it is, getting a makeover and, in the process, shedding light on the transformative power of love in its many shapes and sizes.  mending an ancient t-shirt in Assisted Living And here I am continuing to mend my favorite 27 year old t-shirt while waiting for my mother-in-law to return from PT. Love for a t-shirt is nothing like love for my children's grand-mother, but it's love just the same.  Tiekel sleeps at home in Idaho And when a dog curls up in his bed on a cold winter's day, knowing he will be fed and walked and have his needs met, he knows he is loved. And how can we not love such faithful creatures? It's a two-way thing.  another Compost Composition by ERSwett So why not love my compost pile? I feed it and it feeds me.  inaugural Community Climate Conversation at Salt Hill Pub in Hanover, NH And why not love it when a group of people gets together to laugh and learn together during a Community Climate Conversation? Although I find the play of light in this particular scene compelling, it is the gathering itself that fills me with joy. It, too, is a different kind of love.  I think the love I feel for a group gathering to cope with climate is like the love I feel for the earth when I witness snow-covered mountains rising above the clouds. It's an abstract kind of affection, one that satisfies a non-specific but core need to share the gift of being...  a multi-generational gathering of friends ...together
 Inaugural Hanover Community Climate Conversation at Salt Hill Pub, Hanover, NH February 4, 2020 Who knew that 20 people would show up for Hanover's inaugural Community Climate Conversation? With just a few hand-made notices around town and in a few social media outlets, we drew a small crowd. How cool is that?  Handmade Poster for Hanover Community Climate Conversation, 2020 Indeed, what does the climate have to do with fashion and clothing? As it turns out, more than most of us know or understand. Apparel and footwear accounted for 8% of global greenhouse gas emissions in 2016 (more carbon than international flights and maritime shipping), is the second largest consumer of the world's water supply, and pollutes oceans with micro- plastics and rivers with toxic chemicals.  My favorite black boots purchased on consignment from The Pink Alligator in West Lebanon, NH Clothes are also something we wear every day and that can often make our day. I know that is the case for me. My black boots give a kick to my step and my long purple wool cardigan embraces me and gives me confidence. There is no reason to feel bad about dressing in garments that make us feel good. Our challenge is learning how to wear clothes that both feel great and don't harm the earth.  Kim Souza, Owner of Revolution in White River Junction, VT Photo by ERSwett I loved hearing Kim Souza, owner of Revolution (in White River Junction, VT) talk about how she curates her store. While some dresses or fun socks might sell big, she will not sell them if they are not made in the US or ethically produced. Joan Ecker, Founder of Fat Hat Clothing, shared valuable insights about the costs of clothing production and the dangers of 'greenwashing.'  Dr.LeeAnn T Rutkovsky shares her wisdom with Joan Ecker, Founder Fat Hat Clothing, and others Photo by ERSwett For me, laughter was the best part of the evening. Here were a bunch of people, some more interested in 'fashion' than others, who came together to begin a conversation about climate that actually started with what we were wearing. By sharing stories about our clothes in an informal setting we got to know each other in a different kind of way.  Self portrait wearing favorite 24 year old wool sweater Photo by ERSwett Just as one wool sweater is not the same as another (was the wool sustainably harvested, were the sheep treated well, were the people who assembled the garment paid a living wage?), no two people have the same relationship to their wardrobes and how their clothes make them feel. Like so much in the climate conversation, there is always more than meets the eye. Can you tell, for example, that this ancient & beloved turtleneck was repaired last week?  Armpit holes waiting for attention Photo by ERSwett In my last blog post, Compost, Fiber and Fashion, I considered the power of re-imagining my clothes and, in the process, re-imagining myself. At their heart, these reflections come from my ongoing concern for and fascination with waste, not just of food, but of everything. My mother-in-law saved her hems, because she hated things going to waste.  Sashiko style repairs Photo by ERSwett I repaired this twenty-four year old wool turtleneck sweater I bought at a street fair in Germany because I love it, and it seemed wasteful to find another one when I could mend this one. It seems to me that how we connect to our clothing may perhaps reflect how we think not just about ourselves, but also about what it means to be wasteful in general.  Old sweater, new life & a new look Photo by ERSwett I hope that our first Community Climate Conversation inspires those who attended to think more deeply about what they wear. More importantly, though, I hope our laughter invites others to join these gatherings, knowing that we find joy and have fun while paying attention to topics that we know about and love.  This is where we'll be: The cozy corner at Still North Book in Hanover Photo by ERSwett Next Community Climate Conversation:
What's the Story of OUR Stuff? (bring an object you love) March 3, 2020 @ Still North Books, Hanover, NH 5:30 - 7:30 pm Facilitator: Marc Morgan (By day, the manager of Lebanon, NH's solid waste facility; By night, an advocate for deeper thinking about what we consume and why)  My daughter's old socks. Photo by ERSwett When my daughter finally cleaned out her sock drawer over the holidays, she presented me with this colorful pile. I wondered what to do with these mismatched dirty old socks. I don't want to add more clothing waste to the landfill, but because they are made of synthetic fibers, I can't compost them. What's a gal like me to do?  A Suitcase full of clothing remnants. Photo by ERSwett And when I cleaned out my mother-in-law's house two years ago, I came home with bags of scraps from all the clothes she had had altered to fit her - - At 5" and getting smaller, she needed a lot of hems and cuffs removed and shortened.  Knit shirt cuffs. Photo by ERSwett I love that Pam saved these scraps, perhaps thinking they could be used to mend her shirts or trousers if they needed it. Or, perhaps she had a vision for making a quilt some day. But then she forgot about the scraps & those ideas faded with time.  The bottoms of pants that were just too long. Photo by ERSwett When I originally found her bags of cuffs, hems and other fabric, I wondered if I could compost, recycle or reuse them. That's just how I think. The thought of tossing these remnants of my mother-in-law's life into dumpsters made me really sad. I couldn't do it. It's not that I am a hoarder or that I am overly sentimental.  Altered Party Dresses. Photo by ERSwett And it's more than the reality that I hate waste. In fact, I found these on a day when I had been ruthlessly sending all manner of things to the landfill. At that moment, though, I had a feeling there was a story embodied in those bags that I would explore someday.  Some shirts are just too long. Photo by ERSwett So here I am, wondering about my daughter's old socks and my mother-in-law's fabric remnants. The thing that's bothering me most is that they can not be composted because these colorful textiles are made from or contain synthetic fibers. As I have recently learned in Rebecca Burgess's Fibershed, there is more to our clothes than I ever knew.  A pile of textile scraps. Photo by ERSwett For me, though, these piles of fabric are kind of like the piles of vegetables and other scraps I witness in the compost pile. The colors, textures and shapes seduce me, inviting me to pay attention.  A pile of textile scraps. Photo by ERSwett I notice Pam's love for blues and greens. I notice the mix of silk, denim, linen, wool, cotton-knit and shining polyester. Although she now needs a wheel- chair to get around, she once swooshed and swished at parties, did errands in town, and dug in her garden. Each of these scraps reveals a different part of her life, a different part of her.  Silky greens, blues and yellows. Photo by ERSwett It turns out that I am asking the same questions of these scraps that I ask of my compost. Where you do come from, how did you grow or how were you made? Who was responsible for your emergence and ultimate journey to me? Were those responsible for you (fabric or fruit) paid a living wage? Was the soil from which you grew (veggie or fiber) rich with compost, or was it polluted? The Fibershed, it turns out, is like a foodshed or a watershed.  The joy of aqua-marine. Photo by ERSwett Meaning, there is a connection between geography and the health of our food, the cleanliness of our water, and the sustainability of the clothes we wear. Each is part of a system much larger than itself. I started exploring these connections last year when I wrote blog posts about an old t-shirt, old dresses that belonged to my grandmother, and finding new shoes.  2020 Featured Photo #3: Carrots, Leeks & Onion Skins, 2020 Photo by ERSwett Ultimately, when I eat yummy, healthy good, I feel better. When I wear well-made, beautiful and natural fibers, I feel better as well. To continue exploring the relationship between re-imagining my clothes and, in the process re-imagining myself, I'm excited to start hosting a community conversation on this very subject. Stay tuned. I have no idea what will emerge from this...
Don't worry.
I'm still hanging out with compost, but I'm also seeing where that compost leads me. For the moment, it's inviting time with fabric, because, like food, textiles could be removed from our waste stream if we only knew how.  Detroit Skyline & River Photo by ERSwett I used to like to travel, until I discovered that it wore me out. More recently, though, I have been teaching myself how to sustain myself and find joy even when away from home. So when in Detroit to visit family last week, I explored on foot & in a car, with my camera and an open heart.
Taking breaks for treats & coffee may be a cliche, but it's a thing. Delicious coffees and pies in interesting places run by cool people warms my body and my soul.  Walking in Grosse Pointe Farms Photo by ERSwett Walking sustains energy, as does witnessing creative Little Free Libraries...
and eclectic gardens on street corners inviting me to 'Be Patient.'  A cool garden in Grosse Pointe Farms, MI Photo by ERSwett Once again I found myself between generations, sitting with Aunt Al waiting for the dog walker to arrive and, later in the day, celebrating my godson's 14th birthday on the 14th with a celebrated 'Bumpy Cake.' Who knew?
In the midst of it all, I was surrounded by strong women figuring out how to find joy in various messy places - from single-motherhood to compost.  Henry the dog brings joy to his family Photo by ERSwett You got it. Compost. I just can't not seek it out. In this case, I explored Detroit Dirt, a thriving organization that processes food waste and animal manure between old warehouses and the highway.  Compost at Detroit Dirt Photo by ERSwett As I stood among the eight mounds of compost, trying to keep warm as it snowed and the wind blew, I felt the power of earth's capacity to renew itself. It takes energy to create life from waste, but that is just what the amazing Pashon Murray is doing.
Three days before the Women's March 2020, I was surrounded by strong feminine energy, the kind of energy that changes the world. Scraps to soil. Soil to plants. Plants to life-giving energy so that we can breath.  Focusing on Everything at The Anna Scripps Whitcomb Conservatory Photo by ERSwett After Detroit Dirt, I visited the Anna Scripps Whitcomb Conservatory in Belle Isle Park. Anna's story is impressive, but while there, warm and protected from freezing breezes blowing off the Detroit River, I thought about the power of focus - - When we focus on one thing, often something right in front of us, there is clarity and purpose. Trying to see and do it all just gets confusing. It's funny to me how I notice the bird sculpture more when it is blurred in the background, than when I tried to get it and everything else in focus.  Focusing on Ferns at The Anna Scripps Whitcomb Conservatory Photo by ERSwett So when not exploring and playing with extended family, I made time to read and sew, taking a media holiday of sorts. I hadn't planned it this way, but it turns out I read about another inspiring and game- changing woman, Rebecca Burgess and the Fibershed Project. The subtitle "Growing a Movement of Farmers, Fashion Activists, and Makers for a New Textile Economy" connects to, well, everything.
It seems that 2020 is turning into a year for making connections among people, places and possessions, in particular, clothes. Compost remains the focal point, but clothes and their relationship to our identities may be a parallel story line...We'll just have to see. But I'm having fun being with people I love, meeting people who inspire, and feeling the power of the feminine spirit wherever I go.  Living Wall, Anna Scripps Whitcomb Conservatory, Belle Isle Park Photo By ERSwett  Stitching the rip... This week I have been thinking about fixing and mending. To me, fixing involves a tool kit used to solve a specific problem which, when repaired, provides a clear solution. Once fixed, we move on, glad that the problem has been resolved.  repairing the furnace This was what happened a few days ago when our furnace stopped working and two guys came to repair it. It took some time to diagnose the actual problem, but with their tool kit in hand, they solved the issue. Done. House warm again. We move on with our day.  the mending pile A day which, for me, involved mending - an act that feels different from fixing. Yes, there is a problem to solve - a lost button or holes in a pair of joggers - But the problem does not feel urgent, like a furnace not working in the middle of winter.  the old duvet The contents of yesterday's mending pile, for example, consisted of things with problems we had been living with for years...literally. This tie on this vintage duvet cover had been broken for longer than I can remember, as had the missing button on another duvet cover in the pile.  messy stitches Mending does not have to be perfect, either. Clearly, my stitches on the duvet are a bit messy and the button and thread color do not match what was there before on this night shirt.  mismatched buttons My goal was simple: Get the job done & move on. That's what I do in January. Finish projects, clean up, clear out, and, as if often the case, mend things, whether a missing button, a huge rip in my favorite gardening clothes, my son's joggers, or, perhaps, even the climate...  same overalls, similar rips, different strategies But when I started to mend the huge rip on the back side of these overalls, I got distracted, as can happen sometimes, and decided to add some color, because, as it turns out, I had been consolidating our thread collection earlier in the week and happen to have found this fabulous green (ooh I love run- on sentences).  what if? And I thought it would be fun to add some curves to this otherwise set of straight lines. So suddenly my 'get- the job done' mending turned into something else entirely.  the seduction of curves I became entranced by the colors, shapes and textures that emerged. I know. These joggers are completely absent of color.  losing change from jogger pockets But the shapes and textures were so cool and the feeling of the wool fabric I used to repair the holes so soft, I just had to share these images and this project with you.  textures of mending Because I realized, in the midst of it all, that mending is about tending to an ongoing relationship with something or someone, whether it's a piece of clothing, your dog or your son. Yes, there is a particular problem that emerges at the moment, but in the process of mending it, you change the actual structure of that which is being mended by adding thread, new fabric, new colors or new shapes.  a very very mellow companion And, it turns out, you can change the structure of yourself as well. Or at least, that's what happens to me when I sit and sew. I hang out with my dog, who hangs out with me. We both breath more slowly. I have no idea what he thinks about, but I stay focused on each stitch, mindfully mending in that moment.  there will always be need for another button But even
as I sew on buttons and patch holes in joggers, I'm thinking, always thinking, about all those big issues out there in the world for which we want a quick a fix, but which, in my heart, I know may not be able to be fixed with a single tool box at a single moment. The problems we face are just too big. But it helps me to address them when I adopt a mending state of mind. Knowing we will be in this for a while, I focus on relationships of all kinds and not worry about perfection by knowing what is good enough and by making sure I am open to altering my plans by adding color here and curves there.  New Years 2020 By ERSwett People ask me what's next in 2020?  Purple Yarn & Grapefruit By ERSwett Well, I respond, I'll still pay attention to my compost pile & notice things like that purple yarn & the placement of those grapefruit in relation to the torn up bread bag & clementine peals.  The Optimal Essay By ERSwett And I'll still explore text & words & that SAT project, which I began in 2019, but which continues as my college-bound children clean out their rooms & purge those dreaded practice test books.  Apple Cascade By ERSwett And I'll continue to wonder at what emerges from those 5 gallon buckets I collect each week from Umpleby's Bakery & Cafe & honor their waste by giving it new life both in the ground and in my camera. Every week it's something new but familiar.  Function Fundamentals 1 By ERSwett And I will be motivated by the novelties, like these three croissants, but also grateful for the familiar smells of spent coffee grounds & eggshells. Who knows what 2020 will bring, but I will keep exploring what my compost has to teach & hopefully, in the process, inspire joy and transformation for you and me.  Solving for X, C By ERSwett  First juried show at AVA Gallery in Lebanon, NH Summer 2019 It's been quite a year.  Rhubarb, Pea Pods & Paper, 2019 By ERSwett Each week, 110 pounds of compost processed in the bins behind our garage.  More buckets of compost from Umpleby's Cafe in Hanover, NH That's 52 weeks of at least 110 pounds each week, which adds up to 5,200 pounds or 2 1/2 tons.  Mashed Pumpkin and Pea Pods, Fall 2019 By ERSwett As you know, compost is a thing for me, coming from a place of deep caring and ongoing curiosity.  January 1, 2019 - - My first sampler: "This Compost" by Walt Whitman In 2019 that compost inspired oodles of photographs, yards and yards of embroidery, and an entirely new way of thinking about myself.
I wonder where these tons of compost will lead in 2020 and beyond.  Apple Peals, Fall 2019 By ERSwett What twists and turns will emerge? Will there be chaos or coherence? Every year, it's the same wondering. What's next? Will I be OK?  Dried Roses, 2019 By ERSwett Will we be OK? Will we find renewal from transformation or will we remain stuck?  Christmas Cactus, 2019 By ERSwett Will we choose uniformity or diversity? Will we hover, like these hydrangeas above the fray...  Hovering Hydrangeas, 2019 By ERSwett ...or will we let ourselves mix and mingle with others, and in the process, embrace the mess that may emerge?  Hovering Hydrangeas and Orange Peals, 2019 By ERSwett Will we? Will I? These are the kinds of questions I ask at the end of each year. It's hard not to, especially when there's so much going on. At this moment, though, I wonder how these compost photographs will inspire you and me to transform ourselves in 2020 and the decade ahead. Keep me posted. I'm curious...  Compost Compositions at The Mayor Gallery at AVA in Lebanon, NH. A quiet space, ready for conversation.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 1 By ERSwett The cornucopia came home with us after Thanksgiving in CT. It sat on the windowsill.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 2 By ERSwett The flowers started to wilt and I noticed the texture of the drying petals and the play of light from different angles.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 3 By ERSwett And the roses captured my attention.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 4 By ERSwett And kept my attention even when tossed into the compost pile.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 5 By ERSwett It's strange. I've actually never really liked roses. They're hard to grow and their thorns hurt. It has always struck me as odd that a flower that can cause pain would be one so many use to express love. Though maybe that's the point. Love hurts. Sometimes.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 6 By ERSwett On this particular day in the compost pile, though, I fell in love with the roses. They seduced me and inspired me to hang out with them, despite cold fingers & a runny nose.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 7 By ERSwett I know they must have traveled far to arrive fresh in Connecticut in late November. Perhaps it is out of respect for their journey that I can't take my eyes off them - even when things get a bit stirred up...  Cornucopia in the Compost, 8 By ERSwett ...and more compost arrives & gets mixed & mingled with the coffee and the discarded cornucopia.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 9 By ERSwett They are unstoppable, these roses, determined to not get left behind or forgotten. They refuse to be outdone by the dryer lint, kale, or banana peels. They persist.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 10 By ERSwett Maybe that's why love and roses go together. If we pay attention, it's not the rose at first glance, it's the rose that still captivates as it evolves, edges drying and petals falling off. For me, that's what love is...  Cornucopia in the Compost, 11 By ERSwett Love for my family. Love for my friends. Love for the earth that sustains us. Even when tested and tossed around a bit, real love persists, captivates, and has the power to transform all those paying attention to it.  Cornucopia in the Compost, 12 By ERSwett  Weekly Compost Bucket During my show, people asked if my studio smelled and they wondered how I 'staged' my work.  Handmade Three-Bin Composter (Bin & Photograph by ERSwett) Since my 'stage' is a large three bin composting system behind our garage, and my studio is on the opposite end of the house, in the basement, with only a computer and other art supplies, it turns out that neither one actually smells at all (or at least, not of rotting food).
And I don't really 'set up' my Compost Compositions either. I dump food and other scraps into that plastic white bucket that I purchased from K-mart a decade ago. When it gets full, which is at least once a week, I carry the 10 pounds of waste out to our 'active' compost bin. There, I dump a bucket's worth of stuff onto whatever was there before.  A 'Compost Compositions' in process. Then I stir it so that it all gets mixed and mingled. As you can see, the bins are square, but the camera creates a rectangular image.  Compost Composition #6,573 or some such number... by ERSwett I then crop my image to create 'Compost Compositions' that feel as close to the 'real deal' as I can get.  5 Gallon Buckets full of Compost. There are additional players in this drama, however. I source most of my raw material from Umpleby's Cafe & Bakery in Hanover, NH, where each week I collect five gallon buckets full of coffee and other food scraps.  Handmade Three-Bin Composter and photo by ERSwett The stage is set for new dramas to unfold. Every time it's a mystery, as the contents and light shift with each season.  This morning's compost from Umpleby's Cafe & Bakery This morning, the buckets contained a wonderful mix of coffee, fresh lemons, celery and some old lettuce.  Coffee steaming... I love how the fresh and still warm coffee grinds, generate steam. I also love how I don't actually know what was in each bucket until I stir the heaped mass of coffee and vegetable scraps...  Mixed salad, sandwiches and omelettes perhaps? ...and uncover a compellingly speckled moldy tomato.  It's all very democratic - - everything gets mixed and mingled together. There is no hierarchy in a compost bin. I doubt any of these will become official 'Compost Compositions' as the lighting wasn't quite right today. Stay tuned for more about that in a later post.  Love contrasts between lights and darks As you
can see, this 'behind the scenes' view of my compost process is not really behind anything other than our garage. It's all out there. In the winter, red squirrels come to feast; In the summer bees and other bugs hover. For years I've referred to my work as the 'real deal.' It may be contained & framed but, like me, what you see is what you get.. (most of the time). |
Evelyn R. Swett
honors community, everyday transformation and joy. 
compost re-imagined
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**Let's ReFrame is a weekly viewsletter about this and that.
It includes links to recent blog posts, updates about my work, and when relevant, inspirational action prompts
for you to explore your creativity and passion for the world you love.
It includes links to recent blog posts, updates about my work, and when relevant, inspirational action prompts
for you to explore your creativity and passion for the world you love.