"Constellations and Compost" (June 2008)

It has been a year now since Madeleine came into the world. Instead of rushing to get last year's garden in before she was born, this spring she crawls around in the dirt behind me pulling leaves and flowers off the plants I just finished putting in the ground.

Last weekend brought the sad news of the passing of an American folk hero and underground icon, the legendary folk singer, activist and hobo Bruce "Utah" Phillips. One star shooting on into the darkness, another flame growing steadily stronger. The juxtapositions in the sky are a part of our human existence, yet we are left to wonder at the miracles and mysteries of both.

I heard a radio interview with a young woman this week, who recently started her career in astronomy. She was fortunate enough to witness a supernova back in January - the death explosion of a star 88 million light years away. I don't know what made more of an impression - that such a stroke of luck was a heck of a way to start a career, or that she witnessed something that happened when dinosaurs walked the earth. 88 million light years means that the light took that long to get here, and thus what we are seeing is not the star in the present, but the star in the past. It has been long gone for that long.

It would be folly to think that much of anything we individual humans do will be visible 88 million years from now. Luckily, none of us have to live that long, or have that long to live. New growth turns up every spring whether we have new babies or bid farewell to our revered elders. Stars come and go in the sky.

Sometimes the signs of change are subtle, other times quite obvious - the universe making something new from what went before. This year's garden is off to a rollicking start, thanks to generous May showers and the filthy richness of our compost bin, now nearly emptied and ready for serious summer refilling. The last year's wasted and rotted vegetable matter, eggshells, coffee grounds and such become the stars of this year's garden - the maters, peppers, herbs and flowering butterfly magnets that we've carefully arranged and tended. It is their, and our, moment to shine brightly. The season of killing frost and low angled sun are far off on the calendar and the mind. It is the now that matters, and energy being converted to matter (and maters).

Utah's wish was to not be embalmed and laid to rest in a handmade wooden coffin to expedite his return to the earth. Somewhere out beyond the constellations, I hope he is nodding his head and enjoying the fruits of his life's labors. We have plenty of time to remember, and appreciate, his light and all the seedlings it has nurtured.

Remember the next time you wish on a shooting star, that it has traveled a long way to be here at just the right moment.

For more about the life and music of Utah Phillips, http://www.utahphillips.org/
and to read his wonderful final letter, http://www.kvmr.org/utah_letter.html