The World’s Worst Composter Hits Pay Dirt
Let me start by saying that I’m relatively new to the sport of composting. For the decade I lived in Philadelphia there was no place for a bin, and for next decade I had my hands full with an extensive home restoration project: new walls, new windows, new wiring, a top-to-bottom job – not an excuse, I know, but a person can only handle so much. So it’s only in the last decade that I’ve taken up composting.
Composting is one of the easiest, most sustainable activities around, but somehow I’ve managed to make it both difficult and anxiety-producing. Perhaps because I work here at EPA I feel I should excel in this environmentally-friendly activity. Nonetheless, I am convinced I am the world’s worst composter.
Every evening when I make salad, cut fruit, prepare vegetables, or clean the non-meat, non-grain discards from the plates, I set aside the remnants in a bowl or bag. After dinner, one of the kids runs it out back to our fancy compost bin. I first used a rather small bin, but results were snail-like so I amped it up with this larger fancy-pants model. The six-tiered design allows me to disassemble it, turn the soil, and put it back together with the utmost of ease.
However, we’re still talking refuse, and fluttering around the refuse is a barrage of fruit flies and other winged demons that rise up in protest every time I open the lid to deposit my castoffs. It gets worse. I had been filling this bin for three years and never once turned the soil.
Embarrassed by my incompetence, I decided, just for kicks, to get out there with a shovel since none of my kids could be bribed. To combat the creepy flying things, I donned my husband’s beekeeper hood and prepared to be attacked. I had low expectations, but after the first turn of the soil, I was amazed. Beneath the still recognizable orange peels and pineapple rinds, the discarded zucchini ends and apple cores, was none other than black gold.Beautiful, black, rich, fertile soil that I intend to spread on my flower garden this fall — using the bee hood, of course. So I’m here to tell you, if the world’s worst composter can do it, you can too!
About the author: Pam Lazos, one of our attorneys, about her experiences with composting.
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