Remember that hippy slogan from the sixties, “Make Love Not War”?
Well maybe not. Maybe it was before you were born. But I remember it and that slogan went hand-in-hand with a number of other “new” counter-culture concepts popular at that time including the idea of creating a compost pile to feed your groovy organic garden.
This was not a particularly new idea in my family. I grew up in my grandma’s garden. She always had a bin by the kitchen sink for collecting the scraps that accumulated from preparing meals. After supper each day, these got walked out and tossed in a corner of her veggie garden. Every so often she’d launch a shovelful or two of soil on top of them and that’s where grass clippings and weeds got thrown too; the location of the pile changed each summer.
She didn’t use fertilizer except for the manure she got from our dairy farmer, Mr. Depew and there were no spray cans for killing bugs either—bugs and larvae were okay. The bad ones we picked off by hand and dropped in a bucket of water that got poured onto the pile. I never really thought much about it, it’s just what we did.
Who knew my grandma was so smart? The wisdom of elders is like that.
So, composting comes pretty naturally to me.
I keep a container by the kitchen sink for veggie scraps, tea bags and coffee grounds—the worms just LOVE those coffee grounds—I toss shrimp shells in there too. Every few days I walk it out to my old, black, plastic compost bin. My husband, Lee, gave me the bin as a Christmas present many years ago. It’s come apart a few times and is now reinforced with wooden corners; the top doesn’t hinge anymore so I have to keep a rock on it. Sometimes I forget and it blows off and I have to go searching for it.
I’ve learned that there’s something of a formula to composting: fifty percent ‘browns’ for supplying carbon (leaves, yard debris, sawdust, even paper waste); fifty percent ‘greens’ to add nitrogen (food scrap, coffee grounds, grass clippings, etc.). I fork through it with my spade fork now and then to provide aeration—those critters in there need to breathe—and I make sure it stays moist but not wet. My neighbor, Whitney, brings me the sawdust and droppings from her chicken coop—ooh, rich stuff! And I add the ashes from my fire pit too.
I move the bin twice a year: I have spring/summer/fall compost and winter compost. In the fall the dark, fertile contents of the bin get spread on a garden bed to rest for the winter—last fall it was the asparagus bed that received the precious bounty. A couple of days ago I moved the bin to its summer spot—my peach tree needs some nourishment so that’s where I put it. Last winter’s bin contents got turned over and covered with a tarp. In a month I’ll spread it on the bed where it’s sitting and that’s where I’ll plant my tomatoes this summer.
I know there are fancier ways to compost, but this works for my little garden.
We all need to compost. Food scraps and yard debris make up thirty percent of the throw away garbage that goes into anaerobic landfills and creates methane gas. Why? Feed that carbon back to the earth where it belongs and is needed and can be used. Let’s make soil not trash .
I love my compost. I love being aware of the billions upon billions of life forms that I’m feeding each day so that they can do their beautiful magic of decomposition, of turning waste and death into soil and life—a daily reminder of the miraculous cycle of regeneration and rebirth.
I can’t wait for my asparagus to show their pretty purple heads.
Happy Earth Day!
Please comment below and let me know how you compost.
Visit the ‘Soil Advocacy’ page on my website for more information and resources about soil regeneration.