This is a busy little corner of our yard. Hens cluck proudly after they lay, the compost pile occasionally gets turned, we chat with our backyard neighbor as she smokes high above us on her deck.... last Sunday, while Claire napped and Mike sat down for a few minutes to eat some lunch and relax after our morning of yard and garden work, I headed out to sift the compost.
Because it is truly one of the most meditative and calming things I know.
It starts out (as compost typically does) as a mix of our kitchen scraps, yard waste, and chicken poo and looks something like this:
and then we stop adding to that pile and turn it more often and after some time (weeks? a couple months?) and lots of rain and sun and worms and billions of little microbes, it looks like this:
and then we shovel it onto the handy compost screen that Mike made and smush it all around to sift out the sticks and acorns and not-really-quick-to-compost compostable forks and what-have-you
and we are left with this:
which we use in our raised beds and as part of our soil mix (equal parts compost, vermiculite and rehydrated coconut coir) that we make up to start all sorts of green and growing goodness.
Ah, compost. What lessons there are to be learned from you~
I love this poem from prairepoetry.org: