The Magic of Mulch

By Margaret Lucke

At our house we have two compost piles.

One is outside in the backyard. Into it we toss vegetable peelings, fruit cores, used teabags, grass clippings, and the like. Over time the organic matter, sunshine, and moisture work together in some magical process to produce rich soil. We work the soil into our garden to nurture the seedlings or spread it around the base of our fruit trees and shrubs to help them grow up tall and strong. Occasionally a volunteer plant, a tomato or melon, sprouts in the compost pile, a testament to the way it promotes fertility and growth.

The other one is inside the house, on my desk.

This pile consists of papers. Lots of papers. All kinds of papers. Heaps of papers, tossed on the desktop willy-nilly. The picture to the right is not my desk but the two share a strong family resemblance.

Sticking a pitchfork into my pile, I unearth a check reorder form, a flyer for a campaign to keep China Camp State Park open, a scrap of paper bearing someone’s phone number, a handout from a class I recently taught, a recipe for a side dish featuring Brussels sprouts, receipts from various purchases, a printout about a short story contest, a magazine subscription form, several newspaper clippings, a postcard promotion from a community theater—and that’s just the top layer.

I’m pretty organized by nature, and I regularly sort through all the stuff that collects on my desk, filing it or recycling it as needed. I practice the 90-degree-angle rule, assembling the papers into stacks with squared corners so they look neater. But keeping up with the tide of papers that endlessly flows into this house would be a full-time job, and I need to spend some of my time writing.

Some people would say this is clutter, not compost, and okay, I can see their point. But really the pile on my desk functions much the same way as the compost pile in the yard. It provides a rich and fertile environment in which ideas can grow.

As I sort through the stacks I always stumble on something that relates to a story idea, which is why I saved it, or that triggers a new one now. For instance, China Camp is the setting for a scene in my novel-in-progress. The newspaper clippings are also research items for that book. The handout suggests a possibility for a nonfiction article. And the Brussels sprouts--well, I can’t explain that one. 

Often I long to have a tidy desk with clear surfaces. On rare occasions I actually achieve that blissful state. But as nice as that is, I also appreciate the papers, the creative mulch in which ideas can bloom and flourish.

Hey, is that a tomato plant sprouting beside my computer?

 

Comments

[Ann]

I must admit: This looks like my desk as well. Cleared-off surfaces never seem to last in our house. I come from a long line of people with packrat tendencies... I wonder if it's a hereditary trait.
Thanks for a fun post on composting!

[rita lakin]

Love the photo. You must know a good photographer and hey, how did you know that my desk looks exactly like yours.
Rita

[rita lakin]

PS I would love a copy of that photo.
Rita

[Priscilla]

Love the photo! The only reason my "desk" isn't the same: it's the kitchen table and I have to eat there... Oh, and that may be a small zucchini.