The intuitive composter

Ugh, composting.

I’m so obsessed. Why? I got into composting after discovering just how bad it is for the environment when you throw away food waste. Food scraps, deprived of oxygen as they decompose in landfills, emit enormous quantities of methane—a climate poison that, although it cycles out of our atmosphere faster than carbon, does 56x the damage on its way. Guh. As an individual with access to open yard space, it thus seemed a no-brainer to start composting.

When I first began, I had no idea what I was doing. I didn’t know what compost was, exactly, or how to make it “work.” Vague memories of my Mother’s enormous backyard pile brought me only information about which types of lizards like compost (a lot of them), and that flies are sometimes a problem. Google searching was surprisingly difficult. There wasn’t a ton of straightforward information available. Different sites used different terms (greens and browns, carbon and nitrogen, green manure, yard waste), and different ratios. Things seemed overwhelmingly technical, and there were a lot of percentages involved. I was warned about animals, and about smells. “Don’t compost citrus” was a rule. (Why?)

Eventually, I gave up and just started piling food in a corner of my yard. I buried the food in leaf litter, covered it with some loose cardboard, and let it be. About once a week, after that, I would take a fresh bowl of food scraps, dig a small hole in the center of my pile, place the scraps there and bury them with fresh leaf litter and other available yard waste. Sometimes, I would just cover the pile in dirt. Often, that winter, it rained, keeping the pile reasonably moist.

After awhile, I began to notice certain things. For example, if my pile lacked a certain amount of grass, leaves, and twigs, my food scraps would clump together into slimy, stubborn lumps. I started keeping my pile at an intuitive ratio of yard waste to food scraps. I also saw that if my pile dried out between rain, my food scraps would “linger” for longer amounts of time. I started keeping the pile damp with a hose. A little after that, I began to notice that no matter how much new food and yard waste I added, my pile wasn’t seeming to grow. Instead, it was decaying at an even clip to anything new I was adding. It was also emitting an odor. Not a gross odor, like rotting food might cause, but a good odor. A dark, rich, earthy smell. Worms were starting to appear. Not just under the pile, but all across my tiny garden. I had created good compost!

These days, I know more about composting. (A lot more.) Enough to understand, more scientifically, why my original observations, made all those years ago, were so successful. I know about nitrogen and carbon, and why different things decompose at different rates. I know what nematodes are at work, and why it’s a good thing if stink beetles start to appear. I know that it’s fine to compost citrus, although I couldn’t explain to you why that myth has been so stubborn. I know that a good pile, well-tended, will not attract animals, and it won’t stink. But, most importantly, I know that composting doesn’t have to be difficult, or even particularly complex. You can just go ahead and do it, armed with just your eyes and your nose, and a little bit of common sense.

I love my compost pile!

It teaches me things. For one, decay is so alive. My pile is filled with pill bugs, stink beetles, worms, and even tiny salamanders. Under a microscope, it’s positively luminous. Dozens of tiny creatures skip about, feasting and farting, all in their enviable work of turning my trash into living, fertile soil. A handful of my compost, patted around the base of a growing vegetable plant, will cause it to bloom overnight, limbs raised and leaves spreading with new and incredible vigor. This has certainly reframed my experience of nature, and—candidly—the world.

A lot of people still aren’t sure where to get started, though. Or, if they do have a pile, they’re not quite sure why it isn’t working. I’m here to help! Feel free to reply with any questions you might have, and I’ll be happy to talk compost with you (plus publish the best Qs I get, for all to enjoy). More soon.

Love,

Cass