My friend,the Librarian

When I was growing up our town had a small library. It was a two story building wth the second sotry more or less the basement. The parking lot had about 5 spaces and if it was a busy time you had to park on the street. You walked down a ramp and into the building. To the left was the children's department and to the right was the small elevator and the narrows stairs leading to the adult area. The children's department was cramped, as I remember it. There were cinder block walls above the shelves of books. The windows were small and too high for me to reach or see out of. But that wasn't the point. I didn't need to look out on East Main street I was there for books. My father would take almost any time I wanted to go and it always seemed to me that Mrs P was sitting behind the desk. She was the kind of person who made you feel as though the library was made for you. She had suggestions on books and after a time would know what authors I liked best and would tell me when something new had come in. She introduced me to "Runaway Ralph." She stamped books with the return date and always had a smile. It stunned me then that she could be so happy working in a basement. I had not yet come to realize the thrill of sharing books. I was just learning the thrill of reading.

As I grew older I had to move to the upstairs to get my books and it never seemed as pleasant. The librarians seemed to me to be older and didn't smile nearly as much. As time went on a new library was built. It is a beautiful library. Large and spacious, light pouring in from all directions. Mrs P is still there handing out smiles and books to a whole new generation. Her smile is still the same even though the space has changed. For a time we lived close to that library and I chose it over the large city library where we lived. I walked into the city library and no one knew who I was. No one smiled in a friendly way, the whole atmosphere was out of sync with what I knew growing up.

When we moved out to the country, the first place I went was the library. I fell in love. It is small, but open and light filled and the librarians smiled and commented on the books or movies my young son picked out. It didn't take long for some of the librarians to call us by name when we came into the library.

Over the past fives years we have frequented our library weekly. The librarians know us by name, all three children now. One of those librarians reminds me of my friend Mrs.P. I had quite an over due fine recently , which sadly is the norm not the excpetion for me. I walked into the library and smiled at Mrs.L. She smiled back and said,"What did you do now?" Relief flooded me because really I am , or at least it seems to me, always "doing something" that causes someone else to pick up my slack or help me along the way. But when she said it it was not with frustration but with that same smile she has given me and my children for the last five years. When I explained my dilemma of being unable to unearth four books she looked through the stacks and then renewed what she could and I paid the bill. On the way out she asked if my son had any more bags he might hide his books in and I had a thought. He has many bags adn he likes to hoard thing. We may show up on one of those shows one of these days. But it gave me a thought to look under the back seat of our SUV, a place I really try not to frequent and sure enough there were the books.

Librarians are special people. They are a public servent that most of us probably take for granted or may not even give much thought to what they do. But for me my love of books grew out of a small basement and a special woman with a big smile and has remained because of the other special librarians I have found along the way.

Compost how I love thee

I can see grass. My lawn is appearing after a very long hiatus. I am happy to see some dark green through the grey snow. I can see where my perenial gardens have been sleeping. The snow receded overnight to reveal shovels,sleds and some miscellaneous objects that don't belong on the yard. Our garden fence took a beating and needs more then just some simple repairs. The weight of the snow collapsed the tree trunks that my husband so carefully placed. It looks sad and battered but my husband has already drawn a new plan for this years crops and some seeds have already been bought. A new fence will be in place soon. I passed the garden center on my way to work this weekend and their door was open, not open for business but I can tell it is near. It is March and the rhythym of spring is bouncing in my veins.
My compost bin,which has been devoured by snow since January has been discovered. I had forgotten exactly where it was. My counter bucket just reappeared on the back porch where I eveidently left it before that first storm. It has been cleaned out and returned where it belongs. I hate to admit it but I have not composted this winter. It has been impossible for me to muster the stamina to get to the bin in the backyard. It required too much preparation. Boots, gloves,hat, coat, scarf. It is just like dressing your kids to play outside and having them back in the house in five minutes. Not quite worth all the effort. I did throw many things out into the backyard ,hoping some animals who were scrounging for food would help themselves, but for those of you who don't compost this is not a standard or recommended practice. All I can see now are some very fat squirrels barely able to run through my yard.
This morning I can see more of yard then I have seen since January. There was a layer of fog only seen in a bad B movie, hovering just slightly above the ground. The snow is melting at an incredible clip and the air smells sweet. The metallic smell of winter has faded. I have pulled my gardening gloves from their resting place to replace my winter gloves. My wool hat has been exchanged for the billowing spectacle known as my "shade hat" My Wellies are standing at attention next to my rake. My snow shovel is put away and my flat garden shovel ready to make a new garden in the coming weeks. I can taste the sweetness of food grown in my backyard and smell the tender air that will surround my honeysuckle bush.
My compost is back in business. My counter bucket is full this morning and ready to be placed among the other scraps that will work their magic, turning peels and coffee grinds into sweet smelling soil that will give us another round of cucumbers,eggplant and tomatoes. The walk is easy now, I don't even need a coat and who doesn't love sloshing through the mud?
For those naysayers who say snow could still come, I'm sorry I can't hear you. There are some birds chirping in my ears and I am blinded by the bliss I see just around the corner.