opening ourselves with the hinging daylight hours

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

decomposing lament (sorry this one is sad)

St. Justin (100-165AD) philosopher and martyr was killed during the reign of emperor Antonius Pius of the Roman empire. Today we remember St. Justin. He refused to sacrifice to the gods of the empire and was beheaded for his beliefs. He was the most well known Father of the second century and wrote avidly in the studies of philosophy and conversion. 

 This morning in the greenhouse the neighborhood gardeners and I discussed the philosophy and conversion  of soil with our local soil scientist, named Bill.  We also wrote labels for all of the plants that will be sold at this Sunday's seedling sale for Earth Day Sunday and remembered St. Justin's commitment to writing his beliefs. The  local soil scientist came and discussed his philosophies of soil formation. He was baptized at Sacred Heart on Easter and is very excited by the prospect of tapping a well in the garden beside the greenhouse, tapping the every flowing waters of our high water table. When the contractors were digging the basement for the SOuth Camden Theater (beside my house) they hit an underground spring, and according to the stories of the rectory breakfast table two catfish swam into the basement from underground. I saw the catfish, these bottom filter feeding Siluriformes swimming in the hole after the backhoes had left for the day. They are one of the best indicators for water quality, because they live and eat the mucky soil at the bottom of our waterways.

Bill, the soil scientist, told us that soil formation is determined by "climate and biota acting on a parent material within a landform through time."   In the urban environment this model may be translated as the decomposition of a dumped mattress. Pedology, soil science, is the the study of the genesis, classification,  and distribution of soils for only the purpose of the soil. 

It drizzled very hard throughout most of the day, and my climate is sad for friends diagnosed with cancer, friends in Philly who miscarried, and the funeral of a 22 year-old boy who volunteered with me at work who died in a car crash named David Mojica.  I wrote labels in the rain as a catfish filterfeeding through the bottom muck. This is my decomposing lament. And i pray for the raising healing watertable to touch all who are mourning all who are feeding on the bottom today.

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