Retired
Still!
Good Friday: I wake to see nobody on the streets; a
public holiday. I dress and walk down Jarvis to King, hang a right, and
drop in to Tim Hortons to pee and buy a small coffee. And a muffin.
Back Outside I see the last Toronto Star in a box, so I pay for a
newspaper (first time in about a year) and retreat back into the coffee
shop. Why hurry?
I may not get done today all I want to get done, but there's always tomorrow ...
I walk back up Church street and arrive home around 10am.
Once divested of my vest, a whim strikes me: a hot
bubble-bath would be nice. Why not? In the past I'd have postponed the
bath - there are proposals to be written, phone calls to be made. But
today I plunge into a warm soaking bath, at 10 am, with a good book.
Dried and dressed I hear a small plane fly
overhead. Why does this always make me feel happy? Perhaps because the
first small planes I saw I saw at the seaside, and only at the seaside,
so the sound of a small plane is associated with good memories of
sand-castles, sandwiches, and a generally good time when even my mother
was relaxed.
SUFE
So today is national let's-inspect-the-primary-vermicomposter day.
This vermicomposter is no more than a cardboard carton with a black plastic garbage bag.
I have tipped the contents onto a table-cloth - another black plastic garbage bag. Why are you surprised?
Into the emptied bag go the month's accumulation of
shredded paper; this will provide food and air and a moisture reservoir
so that the bacteria can thrive.
Over the paper scraps I deposit the original
contents of the vermicomposter, which is the accumulated decomposition
of this months kitchen scraps.
The paper bin is empty and ready for next month.
I am contemplating making another kit for a friend,
so I'll put the paper directly into an empty potting-soil bag, then add
a gallon of kitchen scraps, and next month seed it with some handfuls
of material from the primary vermicomposter.
So it goes.
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