Weird, I might be. But I’ve always found something lovely about the food scraps that end up in the metal bin that sits on our counter until we dump the contents into our vast compost pile beneath the New Mexican sun. I love the blood-red ooze of beet scraps, the paper-thin crinkles of onion skin, the vibrant orange of papaya. How could I not admire such a medley of natural colors?
Last week, I tossed a bunch of pea pods. When I returned a day later, the sun had dried them into the most intricately artistic shapes. I retrieved them from the compost pile and took them inside so Jerry could photograph them.
Is it my imagination or do you, too, see the beauty in these shriveled little scraps? Eventually, they will crumble into the tiny flecks that turn to soil. I’ll spread them around plants, and they’ll help our garden grow anew, and we’ll praise the fresh new vegetables and fruits when they ripen on stem and tree. Perhaps they’ll produce a juicy red tomato. And then we shall begin the whole process again, from scrap to earth and all the art between.