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Sean the Composter

Somewhat to Sylvia’s annoyance, there is always a pile at the back corner of our yard (”garden”, for English readers).

I have always maintained that it could be worse… it could be a pile of wood, or a pile of rubble, or even a pile of garbage. In fact, it’s a compost pile. I religiously compost all the bagged grass trimmings, shredded leaves, pulled weeds, bits of things that fall from the sky, toys left out overnight, whatever.

The trouble has always been, I produce far more compost than I generally need to use. Although I love to turn the pile over every now and again, just to marvel at how the little bits of green and brown stuff turn into something something so wholesomely earthy, I had never really figured out what to do with it all.

We did manage to use most of it once, when we put in the flower beds at the back along the fence. I was immensely proud of how holistically fertile those beds where when we first dug in the rhodedendrons and hydrangea, and then nested the impatiens in between. Okay, I’ll admit there’s more, but I have no idea what they are called. Point is, thanks to my pile, it was and is a great flower bed.

Since then the pile has grown a little each year. I move it around a bit, shuffle the well rotted bottom stuff up to the top and mix it about. I sprinkle in a little ammonium nitrate, or wood ash from the fireplace, or maybe throw in some leftover worms that were spared impalement upon a fish hook. But other than that I don’t actually do much with it. The pile is really more of an end, than a means to an end.

Until this year. Today, I went out with the pitchfork to the compost pile and decided that Things Were Going To Be Different. Today I decided that every spring and fall, the compost will go on the lawn. No more weed and feed for me, no sirree Bob. Good, wholesome, mostly organic compost. Not only will it fertilize, and contribute to the soil, but it will also help me fill in the holes and low spots.

I pulled the mower out, set it to the lowest cut, and razed the backyard. Every hollow, little valley, bump, and divot lay before me, brutally exposed. I built a screen out of some scrap wood and wire mesh, and laid it over the wheelbarrow, and started shoveling. Every three of four shovelfuls , I’d stop and shake the screen until the good bits were in the wheelbarrow, and then dump the unripe bits back into the ‘incoming’ end of the pile. Great fun. As soon as the wheelbarrow was full, I carted it to a needy area of lawn, dumped it, and raked it in. Repeat process. All day.

So now, two calloused hands, one aching back, and two sore feet later, I am down to 1/3 of the original pile and the back lawn is done. From the vantage point of the hot tub, I survey my organic, top dressed Grassdom, and I feel pretty good.

But maybe once a year is plenty.