[Seasons: Spring XXII]
Layer upon organic layer, we compost everything. Banana peals, leftover oatmeal, and junk mail—I kid you not, we compost everything. And because it’s layered well, with a good balance of carbon rich material and nitrogenous plant waste and manure, it becomes black soil in 12-18 months.
The compost heap requires no turning. No effort on our part. The community of billions of microorganism carry the lion’s share of work to convert unusable organic material into nutrient-dense humus for the plant world to consume.
Spring is when we pull off the tarp and access last years coupon mailers and coffee grounds, that by virtue of natures miraculous work has become exactly what my onion bed needs. I’m merely the public transit from one destination to another. Nature does the work on both ends.
And I humbly participate in a concrete, real-world example of how death serves life.
Nothing grieves the human heart more than senseless death. Nothing, I’m convinced, fills the heart with more gladness than purposeful, life-serving and life-giving death. Every spring I participate in life-giving death when I transport the finished compost from the pile to the garden. And my heart is full.
