We made a trip to the back woods dump today. Although my lake neighbor said we now all it the 'compost recycling station.' It's just a spot on some land jointly owned by the residents along our shore line. We put pine needles and small sticks back there. Since Mark had done all the work, I rode along. It's actually a wonderful, private place to hike on a cool fall day.
While Mark used a pitch fork to unload all the brush, I wandered at the edge of a nearby meadow. Just in the few minutes we were there, I saw an amazing variety of little insects, butterflies and plants. It occurred to me that so much of the good stuff happens around the edges of life.
We are taught to face things 'straight on'. It's a very American quality to barge right in, full speed ahead, take no prisoners. But sometimes, if you just pause a moment and look at life from a slightly different angle, look at the edges of things, it all takes on a different appearance. Poets know that. "Tell The Truth but Tell It Slant" says Dickinson.
I think Emily D. would have loved the meadow and the 'compost recycling station.' I plan to walk back there this fall and sit, all alone on the edge of that meadow. I'll bet it will be an experience worth remembering.
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