These days, I am cutting down plants in my garden. From time to time, my attention wanders to next spring when my plants will return. Then I snap back to the snip – snip sound of my cutting shears and the feel of the firm stems that grew all summer.
I flood my compost bins with the husks of my lovely, beloved plants. I hand their severed stalks over to the denizens of decomposition. I do this with the confidence of one who anticipates the earthy fragrance of the fine compost my tiny helpers will produce.