Feeding the Garden so It'll Feed Me
Wednesday, April 11, 2018
I told my husband I was really intrigued by the idea of a compost bin. (We live too near the neighbors to say "compost pile." He wouldn't have known what he was in for, but you don't do that to the neighbors.) Anyway, he bought me a giant green compost bin, after I told him about the lady who taught me about composting back when I was in grade school, and how beautiful her lawn and flowers, her little wooded wildflower path out back to the giant compost pile, were. Now we're having way too much fun stuffing kitchen scraps in a coffee can to feed the thing. It's supposed to not need turning; I'm happy about this, as it'd be a bit awkward to hop into that thing with a pitchfork.
I'm even schlepping my orange peels home from the office, rather than chucking them into the breakroom bin.
Anyway, I'm fairly sure this is a sneaky, subconscious way we've figured out to encourage ourselves to eat more veggies and fruits (particularly any that have peels) and to drink tons of coffee. It reminds me of a less terrifying version of Amish Friendship Bread or sourdough starter.
My husband took a whiff of the thing, yesterday (as if it's been there long enough for decomp to set in at all) and announced that it smelled GOOD. The directions told him it was supposed to smell good. Muahahahahaha...
"The predominant odor is coffee," he admitted. Well, I have news for him - it's soon to be "Orange cappuccino with hint of dried oak leaves and rotten bananas, served in a recycled Amazon box."