My celebration of compost continues. It really is miracle stuff.
Before Ron started rototilling, we started bringing some of the remaining purchased compost into the garden. Last Sunday I was able to turn our compost pile and harvest what was at the bottom. I ended up turning the whole thing in a single day (= sore biceps), but it is a strangely rewarding process.
For one, I’m always amazed–still!–how time and various biological processes turn assorted stuff–straw, leaves, kitchen scraps, weeds, and more–into lovely, lovely compost.
But also, the chickens were incentives to get more compost into the garden. They liked the purchased compost. They climbed on the piles and started digging and scratching right away.
However, my compost? Well, that was the cat’s meow–or the chicken’s cackle or something. Before I could get the next wheelbarrow of compost loaded and dumped, they had already spread out the previous load. It must have had more tasty worms, bugs, and bits in it. It was pretty funny watch them ferociously dig and scratch and spread out my compost. Hence, the sore biceps.
All the compost is now getting put to good use yet again. We had such lovely spring weather this weekend, we got a little ambitious and started planting spring-friendly crops–spinach, lettuce, kale, peas, and so forth. The thing is, now we’re having a bit of a heat spell so it’s a mini-summer spell amid spring. And those crops don’t love hot weather. Oh well.
There are many more spring topics to write about–bees, asparagus, three new chicks (!), and the arrival of the catbirds, among others. Another day.