TIPPING OVER THE SILO

In the summer of 2009, the silo came down.  As part of our shoreline project, Husband managed to include the demolition of the very old and dangerously crumbling silo nested closely to the old red barn, which is our Waverly trademark.  Inhabited seasonally by ravens, black-headed vultures and other things that go bump in the night, we had mixed feelings about its demise, but reasoned it could only end up hurting someone with its occasional masonry tile exfoliation.  Each section was brick-heavy and capable of killing.  So, over she went.

As I captured the precise moment of death on camera, a lump lodged in my throat and a still, barometric depression began forming in my chest.  "Is it just a heart attack," I thought, "or am I going to cry?"  Neither happened.  And then "Ca-Smash."  Quiet is the time after an event so transforming.  The former brown, shiny, stoney silo was an elongated ridge of broken pottery.    White dust hung in a cloud  over the slain corpse of our long-time companion and the grave diggers with metal arms loaded the remains onto a huge dump truck bound for landfill interment.  Goodbye forever, old friend.

After a respectable period of mourning, we visited the death scene and were pleasantly surprised to discover a cleared, beautiful, fertile, loamy garden space that had been hiding under our deceased friend.  A great place to sow seeds for a late fall garden.  The impetus of the universe from cosmic to quantum emerges tirelessly, a last act/first act melding of everything, destruction fomenting the beginnings of new and wonderful possibilities.