The stench of manure wafted upwards, entering my nostrils as the garbage bag tore along the bottom seam. I heaved it to the ground, looked down and frowned a mishchievious smile, cursing the rotton plant matter I was carrying. Then thanked the gods that this black bag held itself together, before leaking dark brown liquid, until outside of the apartment building. A burgundy vehicle had just pulled up to witness the event. One of them laughed, asking if I was carrying a dead body. I stared at him then looked down and grinned back “No, just some rotten plant matter from my deck.” He lifted his eyebrows and walked with the other three to inside our building.
I had lugged this garbage bag moments earlier from four flights up. The freeze Vancouver experienced a few weeks back wilted and killed off any other living greenery that was still growing. I still had flowers… not anymore. The pansies are beginning to grow again, as are the leeks, the onions, parsley, tyme and oregano. The crocus’s are rearing their heads all confused thinking it is February when it is only the end of December. I’m getting quite a kick out of the perannuals that die and grow, then die and grow again regardless of how many times they are killed during the year by nature or when I pick them to eat.
Yes, this bag could have made decent compost except it was mixed with non-organic matter and my container for compost was full. This whole process of burying the dead matter has been re-juvinating enough for me to start menstruating two days early. The full moon hasn’t appeared yet. I am a ware-wolf; a menstruating ware-wolf. I am a single menstrating ware-wolf ocassionaly hauling rancid manure to the dumpster who enjoys large glasses of pepsi on the rocks accompanied with one king size players extra light cigerette. Dammit.
So gardening is a lot of fun. I really like getting dirty.
I’ve been thinking about talking to the building manager here about transforming the whole rooftop from tar to green, allowing everyone access to grow some fauna. God it would be great to be the caretaker of such a garden. I’ve certainly become adept at container gardening. I read the directions and improvise them to suit my needs. Planting directly in the ground is the same, yet very different than growing in containers. For one you need more peat! I just might persue this idea. Vancouver is an all year round green city. There are funding sources I could perhaps tap into for a wage for myself and the for the creation of said garden. Mayyyyyybe the landlord who owns half of the condo and rental properties in East Vancouver would pay for it. Maybe.
The next idea I have, would involve a more volunteer community effort to undertake, plant and care for, in the form of a community garden across the street in the park. The waiting list never is caught up for people wanting minimul or low-cost spaces to grow in here. Ideas, ideas. Pick one and do it well, dirty.
Vine drawn in ink on watercolour paper – EastVanEsica, 2006