Like flowers
I am filled (filling?) with a renewed sense of hope. Seasonal. And it has nothing to do with our local snow cover (our mini icecap) melting away. It has to do with restaurant menus.
Perhaps the posting were out there, a year ago. I didn’t pay attention. But suddenly, in a way akin to new flowers pushing up and out into the light, our local restaurants are getting the word out there, before my hungry hits. Four, in the last five days. I’d forgotten that we had so many options in the area. I might not join the queues right away, but I can certainly consider the possibilities. In the privacy of my own kitchen taking note of how few dishes I could prepare (lacking the recipes and the basic stores in my pantry). We shall overcome our dietary shortcomings.
On another note, I think that I need a calendar and a clock. This morning, actually closer to noon, I did my transfer of compost bins into the mothership, and then wheeled it (the bin) out to the end of the driveway. And a bit later, it was pointed out that we had the only untipped bin in this area. The big truck had already gone by. Normally, I’d hear the noise, but there was a ship passing, and it (the ship) masked it (the truck sounds). Now I get to practice local composting for another fortnight. Things could have been worse. Imagine if tipping (the other sense of the word) was a local practice.
On the place-mat (beneath my laptop) there are drawing of a particular set of tools. Composting tools. Serendipity, or a hint?
