Bartering has returned. That and plain old gifting. A few weeks ago I needed a few yards of ivory fabric to cover a cushion for a teacher, and though I have more than my share of yardage none fit that description. Shopping has been interrupted so I posted on a social media group for local exchanges. Two offers arrived pronto, and one was spot on. My friend, who lives up the cul-de-sac, delivered it to me. Gratis. 

 

This week another woman was turning her son's t-shirts into a quilt, and sent me a message.

 

"Do you have two yards of tan for in between the squares?"

 

I found just the right piece on a shelf and sent a picture. Her son approved. I left it on my deck. 

 

"What can I pay you?" she asked. 

 

"Nothing."

 

Earlier in the week a nurse inquired about scrub hats. I whipped up a couple and left them on my front steps for her. She lives across the street. Yesterday a woman offered extra tomato seedlings. Having warmed up to the possibility of forgetting past failures in order to foster a garden I asked for two. It was my first time outside in a week, and the brisk air was rich with smells. Freshly turned earth, peeping buds. The baby plants were marked with my name on her steps and I left a mask as a thank you. 

 

In the interest of nurturing vegetables I gave my compost bin a spin. Old peels and pits somersaulted inside as I rotated the handle. Experience tells me that good things can come from what looks like a big waste.