Walking through a cork forest last weekend near Vallgorguina, Spain, we were amazed at the nakedness of the tree trunks. Two meters of skin had been peeled away from each tree, and the underbrush was slashed away exposing each torso. It was fascinating to hike hours, up and down hills, through this thicket of a million cork trees. Peekaboo pictures of green woodlands, mountains, and blue sky could be viewed between each tree.
And, he had to have a piece of it. He pulled out the picnic knife from the backpack and shaved off a hand-size piece of bark. It took awhile to complete and the hiking group waited on him to steal this part of nature. He had the directions and we had moved on, only to arrive at a fork, so we waited. He was proud when he met back up with us, showing off his bounty. I knew when I saw this piece of cork that it would end up in my house with no place to land. I even asked him why he wanted it. He said he wanted to look at it, like some trophy he won or treasure he stole.
And, yet, when the cork was unveiled back home, it was placed on the kitchen counter, next to the sink and the cook top. He showed it to our teenage daughter who showed no sign of interest. He may have shown it to the dog. I saw him pick it up once, turn it over, and called it cool.
So, there it is. Sitting on this precious counter space since Saturday. Today is Friday. There are no signs of its movement. Large dinners have been prepared, dishes have stacked up, meals have been prepped, and everything has been cleaned around it. Yet, here it rests as if invisible to everyone around me.
What is the appropriate amount of time needed before I compost this piece of cork? Would he even notice if it suddenly disappeared the next morning? How long would it take him to notice its absence? Asking for all wives, mothers, and flatmates.
Update: I tossed the cork in the compost on Friday – 6 days after it landed on the counter. No one has noticed or cared, but me.
Tidy room, Tidy Mind.
Loosely Lucy 