With this post, my New Year’s resolution is complete. (Just in time to start working on a new one.) I promised myself in January that I’d pay more attention to the world immediately around me this year and would dedicate my first commentary of each month to that topic.
Although most of these comments have involved the natural world, I was putting things away for the winter earlier this week and began looking around my garden shed, full of implements I use to interact with the natural world nearest to me.
Two bicycles, a six-foot stepladder, a disassembled hardwood table, a folding lawn chair, a dozen or so currently unused plant stakes. Some beekeeping equipment, a veil, a smoker. Drop cloths repurposed from old shower curtains, two canoe paddles, two PFDs, several rolls of webbing, a copper bird feeder given to us as a wedding gift by Dave and Jeanne. A ten-pound sledge hammer, a splitting maul, a garden sifter, juggling clubs (I’m not that good), a couple old Clementine boxes, pliers, screwdrivers, two snow shovels, a manual lawn mower.
Some people, when left alone in another’s house, might go through the medicine or liquor cabinet, perhaps the checkbook. I like to look at bookshelves. I think they tell me more about the mind and mood of the owner and it’s on full public display. I don’t have to violate anyone’s privacy.
A bicycle pump, machete, several leaf rakes, a roll of tar paper, a length of hollow Lilac wood, a coconut shell, a jack knife, used twine, work gloves, two empty juice containers, a hatchet, loppers of several sizes, a round shovel, an edging tool, an iron rake, a hoe.
I suppose what’s true for a bookshelf holds true for a garden shed. The shed in my yard stirs memories of my grandparents’ garden shed, except theirs smelled of the gas/oil mix one puts in power mowers. They had a big yard and were happy to have the ease of motorized mowing. I have a small yard and am happy to be free of it.
Half a bag of charcoal, empty five gallon Spackle buckets, terra cotta flower pots, four lengths of hose, coiled for winter, some unbleached cardboard to be put in the garden, a five-foot double buck saw I bought on impulse at a flea market in New Jersey. Some spent climbing rope, old bicycle tires, an unoccupied hornet’s nest, a bow saw, dried chili peppers, an unused bike lock, a few blue jay feathers, a robin’s nest (also unoccupied), a Folger’s coffee container (plastic, alas, not tin) full of beans from Margaret. A collapsible hose, a sprinkler, another unused bird feeder, a brass hose nozzle, two West African masks, tomato cages, a 4×8 sheet of plywood, a child’s picture of three clouds over three trees painted on a clay floor tile, an unused bird house, two putti.
Why put art in a garden shed? Why not?
Two pair of bypass shears, trowels, garden claws of several varieties, unused beekeeper’s gloves, queen cages. A Barlow knife, a hacky sack (I’m terrible with that), a roll of duct tape, a roll of baling twine, two hive tools, four bee boxes (one deep and three mediums), a cardboard box full of beeswax, a full bag of Halite and I think that’s about it.
Things in My Shed
With this post, my New Year’s resolution is complete. (Just in time to start working on a new one.) I promised myself in January that I’d pay more attention to the world immediately around me this year and would dedicate my first commentary of each month to that topic.
Although most of these comments have involved the natural world, I was putting things away for the winter earlier this week and began looking around my garden shed, full of implements I use to interact with the natural world nearest to me.
Two bicycles, a six-foot stepladder, a disassembled hardwood table, a folding lawn chair, a dozen or so currently unused plant stakes. Some beekeeping equipment, a veil, a smoker. Drop cloths repurposed from old shower curtains, two canoe paddles, two PFDs, several rolls of webbing, a copper bird feeder given to us as a wedding gift by Dave and Jeanne. A ten-pound sledge hammer, a splitting maul, a garden sifter, juggling clubs (I’m not that good), a couple old Clementine boxes, pliers, screwdrivers, two snow shovels, a manual lawn mower.
Some people, when left alone in another’s house, might go through the medicine or liquor cabinet, perhaps the checkbook. I like to look at bookshelves. I think they tell me more about the mind and mood of the owner and it’s on full public display. I don’t have to violate anyone’s privacy.
A bicycle pump, machete, several leaf rakes, a roll of tar paper, a length of hollow Lilac wood, a coconut shell, a jack knife, used twine, work gloves, two empty juice containers, a hatchet, loppers of several sizes, a round shovel, an edging tool, an iron rake, a hoe.
I suppose what’s true for a bookshelf holds true for a garden shed. The shed in my yard stirs memories of my grandparents’ garden shed, except theirs smelled of the gas/oil mix one puts in power mowers. They had a big yard and were happy to have the ease of motorized mowing. I have a small yard and am happy to be free of it.
Half a bag of charcoal, empty five gallon Spackle buckets, terra cotta flower pots, four lengths of hose, coiled for winter, some unbleached cardboard to be put in the garden, a five-foot double buck saw I bought on impulse at a flea market in New Jersey. Some spent climbing rope, old bicycle tires, an unoccupied hornet’s nest, a bow saw, dried chili peppers, an unused bike lock, a few blue jay feathers, a robin’s nest (also unoccupied), a Folger’s coffee container (plastic, alas, not tin) full of beans from Margaret. A collapsible hose, a sprinkler, another unused bird feeder, a brass hose nozzle, two West African masks, tomato cages, a 4×8 sheet of plywood, a child’s picture of three clouds over three trees painted on a clay floor tile, an unused bird house, two putti.
Why put art in a garden shed? Why not?
Two pair of bypass shears, trowels, garden claws of several varieties, unused beekeeper’s gloves, queen cages. A Barlow knife, a hacky sack (I’m terrible with that), a roll of duct tape, a roll of baling twine, two hive tools, four bee boxes (one deep and three mediums), a cardboard box full of beeswax, a full bag of Halite and I think that’s about it.
© Mark Floegel, 2012