There exist, three piles. Three piles scattered about all willy-nilly. Three piles I hope do not spend another year dotting our landscape.
I am aware of the potential contained within each one. To grow food in. To keep weeds down. To improve drainage around foundations. Also not lost on me is the fact that on a homestead property random piles such as these should be accepted as status quo.
I admit to enjoying all initial interactions - armed with a shovel and clarity of purpose. But, at a certain point the happy place where honest work and a thoughtful mind co-exist vanishes. The phantom powers contained within such piles become relentless in their taunts.
"Get to work" they yell in a silent voice that only I can hear. Morning deck hangs with coffee are not the relaxed affairs they once were.
And so I work. To stop the madness. A slave to the piles no more.