The compost bin in my garden is snugged up to the chainlink fence that separates the community from the public sidewalk that runs right along its edge. Over the years I've had a few conversations with friendly bypassers, even recognizing one or two people from school or the neighborhood, but in general the folks walking by while I work politely ignore me just as I do them.
So today, when I chucked a rotten tomato from the far side of the plot to the compost bin without looking, I gasped when I noticed a pedestrian heading my way. Mostly, my aim is true, but I have splattered a few over-ripe things through the fence. And goodness, did that teenaged girl, all focused on her phone, jump when a soft, pulpy mess kerplunked into the nest of vines and clippings in the bin a few inches from her phone hand.
Our eyes met when she scanned the area to identify the threat, and I waved wildly. "Sorry! Sorry!" I apologized.
And to her credit and my relief, she laughed and kept on walking.
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