It is January, and I am finally feeling the urge to clean up files and books in my basement office. It took a while. Many of these I had brought home after cleaning up my office at the church when I retired last summer, but even most of what was already here is from my work as a minister. Cleaning up the files is one way to make space as I discern who I am in this next chapter of my life.
I got a big boost in motivation when I learned that shredded white paper can be composted. That’s right! I don’t even have to send it to recycling, I can add it to our composting right here. Composting works with a mixture of nitrogen sources (“green” for short) and carbon sources (“brown” for short.) Paper counts as a carbon source (brown), like the dead leaves or coffee chaff that we are already using. Each time we bring out kitchen waste (green) to the outdoor compost bin, we also cover it with a pile of carbon sources (brown.) (Usually, you want more volume of brown sources to green source, maybe about 3 to 1, but the exact ratio isn’t something to worry about.)
I don’t like the idea of throwing things “away,” which just clogs up landfills–since there really is no “away.” So it makes a big difference that I can compost paper. Somehow it seems so fitting to compost the remnants of my life as a minister into substances that can rejuvenate the earth. Not that I’ve stopped being a minister–but I will be a different sort of minister from the minister who led a congregation.
As it happens, on the same day I decided to start in on the basement, Netflix released a season of Marie Kondo’s Tidying Up show. I like her guidance to hold each item, and if it “sparks joy” keep it, and if not, thank it and move it along. What a beautiful idea, to thank the things that have served us in the past! I think she also mentions asking, “Do you want to bring this into the future with you?” (Please don’t quote me on the details–I haven’t read her book.) Watching the shows provide another boost of motivation. For me, the process of tidying up my files and books in the basement is about imagining what I will need for the future, what I want to “archive” from the past, and what I no longer need to keep.
(And if by any chance you are worried that I would compost the books–no, no, no–most likely, I will donate books I no longer need to the library, or to friends and colleagues that might want them.)
By tidying up and reorganizing my papers and books, I hope that a spaciousness will be created in which the future has room to be born. May it be so.
The Penobscot River has always been home to the People of the Penobscot Nation. As the Attorney General listed in the lawsuit Penobscot Nation vs. AG Janet Mills, Mills has vociferously defended the State’s opinion that the Water flowing in the Penobscot River surrounding the 200+ islands that make up the Penobscot Nation, was not part of Penobscot Territory. This contradicts Treaties and past interpretations of the Maine Indian Land Claims Settlement Act (MILCSA). The State of Maine and a consortium of 17 Industrial and municipal intervenors, represented by the lobbying firm Pierce Atwood, opposed Penobscot stewardship of the main stem of the River in a manner said by the Federal Government to be in violation of Federal Indian law, and tantamount to an “unlawful territorial taking” of 61 miles of River.
I just have to say it once more: kale is amazing! I picked this kale yesterday morning, leaves frozen on the stalk, snow on the ground. I had already picked most of the kale–just leaving a few tiny leaves that didn’t seem big enough for anything. But they must have grown a little in the meager sunlight and freezing snowy weather we’ve been having the last two weeks of November. I don’t know how they do it, but that is why they are so amazing. The plant just isn’t willing to succumb to the freeze/thaw weather that has killed off most of the other plants. So when I was walking through the winter orchard, I found several small frozen leaves, broke them off, and cooked them up for breakfast–they taste great!
Nomiya munimqehs kihkanok. N’ciciya wot. 
One thing I love about the snow is how it reveals the lives of our animal neighbors. Here is a squirrel highway, a path between two mounds. Now, I had actually helped to create that path the day before, before the snow. The day before that, Margy got a call from a local arborist that he had some wood chips we could have. For permaculture gardeners, wood chips are a boon, especially hardwood chips, especially lamial hardwood chips, which are from the small branches and leaves of the tree. They provide nutrients to help create the kind of soil that is best for fruit trees.
So the wood chips were delivered. The next day I noticed that where the big pile landed had kind of blocked off the pathway on the edge of the food forest. Last winter, I had strung a small string across the edges of the food forest as a gentle deterrent to deer who might possibly wander through. We had seen deer tracks before, though we didn’t actually see any last winter. But the idea was to leave one area free for them to traverse, hoping they’d choose that path on the way between the street and the back of the yard.
I seem to be writing on trees these days. This morning, I happened to notice this photo I took a month ago, rainbow colored leaves of the 
It must have been a big machine that cut down the grandmother pine tree. I found no disturbance around the stump when I climbed up to it to offer my grief and respect. The weeds and small brush nearby were there as before, with only fresh wood shavings and pine sap falling over the edges of the stump. Nothing huge crashed to the ground when they took her. So it must have been a big machine.
Life holds a strength that will not be extinguished, that will crack open the most oppressive of constraints. When I was in Tenant’s Harbor, a few weeks ago, I saw this spruce tree growing out of a huge boulder. Its roots were literally embedded in a crack in the rock itself. I wondered if a seed had found a tiny patch of soil within a crack, or if in fact, the seed, rooting, had created the crack in the rock. But however it first took hold, the roots were now literally splitting the rock in two.
Finding Our Way Home 