Defacing Good Work
There are people who create and build things and those who don't, often too lazy to do more than criticize or live off the efforts of others. You find primetime examples of the latter group in all walks of life, often not far from the steps of our lives.
Most recently, we encountered this when we arrived at the community garden that we started near our office.
Everyone from our office who was available came out on the Sunday to pitch in and get the tasks done. The day had been designated as one of cleaning up for the winter ahead and for building the final garden plot for next year's veggie patch.
Miller Compost had already dropped off enough compost to turn the hard-as-a-rock soil into a loamy miracle. Amazing cedar railings were purchased to bank the garden, chosen instead of pressurized-treated wood for the veggies that would be grown therein. Lunch fixings were aplenty to keep the energy going.
And then we arrived. And discovered that "it" was gone.
"It" = our beautiful apple tree. We planted it in the spring and, much to our delight and pride, it grew with ease throughout the season.
And now it was no more.
Gone.
Unearthed.
Stolen.
Gone.
What an awful feeling and what a mean, cowardly act. We had already dealt with theft in the garden --- I guess that it is a fact of life when you are in public spaces. One of our blueberry bushes was taken, traded at the same time for a strawberry plant in its place. The compost bin that I retrieved from someone's garbage and set up for the earthy-destined remains of our efforts found legs one day and walked away.
Both of these incidences were annoying but not devastating. Nothing like the feeling when one sees an empty space where once a junior tree was growing.
The tree was quite distinct --- an apple tree formed in espalier fashion --- which basically means that it was pruned to grow two-dimensionally (upwards and "sidewise" versus circular). Five different varieties of apples were grafted on its branches. It was going to serve as the wall on one side of the garden and over time, provide fruit for our gardeners and programs to enjoy.
But it is now somewhere else, hopefully taking root. If we raised a fuss, chances are that its' distinctiveness would be its downfall. That our cries would result in it being chopped down to destroy the evidence.
And so we didn't do anything other than to keep going.
The extra plot was built that day. The planks were set out; spikes were nailed in; compost spread and rototilled in. Neighbours came to help and passerbys stopped and encouraged.
But along the lines of "fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice ...", we received wise counsel that something needed to be done to protect our work and our cedar planks specifically.
So we decided to deface them.
The next day, Danielle and I went back to the garden with a can of red spraypaint and a handcut stencil of tulip designs.
And in the rain, we defaced the cedar planks. We sprayed on both the top and one side of each plank. That way if they did end up walking, someone would have a bit of work to do to hide the evidence.
The images would probably have been beautiful if it hadn't been for the rain. We could have waited to do this until the next day. But waiting a day might mean that we could lose them so we sprayed away. The immediacy of our act meant that rather than cute tulip "faces", we ended up with runny, red blobs.
Quite honestly, we didn't care. If they are still there next spring, we can spruce them up. We just needed to make sure that there would be many tomorrows.
And I guess that that's a lot like life, eh? When they hit you, you have to get up, shake yourself off, plan and go about for the next day.
Lots of parallels in the world of the folks building the composting industry across country. As well as beyond.