who only by moving can balance

On Saturday afternoon I met a slow worm. Ridiculous little what-the-fuck shoelacey noodle of a not-snake. I think it is the first time in my adult life I have knowingly met one? I shifted some composty bits to move them into the bin and there it was, doing a startle-freeze of SUDDENLY A SKY PREDATOR, and I stared at it and it stared at me and after a while it decided that Fuck Alla This and slithered further down into the pile to eat more woodlice, and I very gently replaced the top bundle of grass etc that I'd lifted up and backed away. A. just about caught a glimpse of its tail as it finished vanishing.

I then had a certain amount of confusion when looking it up to confirm that I really had seen a real-life actual slow worm, because I was very certain that the thing I'd seen was bright yellow with a black stripe down its back, but all the sources were describing female slow worms (THERE MIGHT BE BABIES) as "golden-grey". It took me A While to work out that I needed to translate from "ordinary people" to "geologist", i.e., yes, the fucker was bright yellow, we're all good.


On the vague topic: having fed the ridiculously extravagant compost bin a relatively parsimonious amount over that preceding week, I was a little alarmed when I showed up to feed it on Wednesday (with packing peanuts, thank you relevant friend) and found it was only at an internal temperature of 40degC. I was therefore very relieved on Thursday to find that, having got started digesting a lot of dandelion leaves and bindweed and paper and cardboard in addition to the packing peanuts, the internal temperature had risen to 50dgeC again.

It is a ridiculous extravagance and I'm still delighted about it. I haven't actually tested the "mulch out in 30 days, mature compost out in 90" yet -- it hasn't been in situ that long -- but I can feed it pizza boxes! I can feed it my moulted hair! I can feed it actual perennial weeds and it will just cook them yea verily unto death and turn them into compost for me! It will eat compostable kitchen bags that you can't cold-compost! I don't have to turn the heap! It's warm and you can hug it! The local cat has not yet quite worked out whether it is A Good Warm or A Kitten-Eating Monster!


Also my fennel looks increasingly like incredibly weedy fennel, and one of my butternut squash vines has an actual flower. Given how late I got them germinated I'm not holding my breath for actually getting any fruit off them before we get frost, but hey, it is An Adventure, and they're growing a flower.

We practise with building bricks and breccias.
Just so--a castle. Just so--in my embrace
if only I hold fast enough, you'll be transformed--
your fragments grown into a plated armoured whole--
your red unblinking eyes your sturdy heart.
As with all complex structures, engineering is required
on every scale from child's play to mountain range;
chance and happenstance tend tenderly toward decay.
With these hands I thee knit together
or a sweater or a scarf; with these hands I thee play
music, best I can; I write for thee solemnities
in careful lines. I create for thee this waxing
waning love, albeit it small, or great--
and at close of day we'll sweep
the sawdust from the floor, we'll bank the fire,
we'll knead the bread--from these quiet domesticities
is all love made.