Composting
Plus a dozen ways to feel more at home
This is Clouds Form Over Land, a newsletter written by Ashley Gremel about resilience, imperfectionism, and our relationship to the earth.
The big news around here is that my compost bin has slugs!
Back in October, I felt a pull toward participating in earthly processes. I loved gardening as a kid, toddling around after my mom as she tended to rows and rows of flowers and edible plants. Each year, we grew beans up a trellis, and I passed many a summer day sitting in the dirt reading amongst the vines. Our black labrador Penny lounged in the grass nearby while Mom puttered about, dispensing plant knowledge and easy company. These days, I want to garden, but we are renting and most of the free space is shaded by trees and neighboring houses. I suspect some native plants might thrive there, but with Goldenrod going for $20 a pot, I couldn’t quite justify the expense when lush greenspace was already thriving just outside our neighborhood’s blocks. I want to pluck fresh herbs and tomatoes into my kitchen, but summer was filled up with more mundane tasks like getting a driver’s license from my new state, securing housing and employment, and trying not to wither in the heat and pace of my new surroundings. So when fall came around, I thought, “What is the easiest possible way for me to get going on this?” and composting came to mind.
I used this 5-minute method from Great Lakes Prepping and a spare plastic tote box, emptied of hand-me-downs from my family for our new home. I tossed in falling leaves, sawdust, and other “browns”, then began adding food scraps about a month later. I stirred the contents a few times a week in the beginning, mostly out of curiosity, and have left it alone over the winter to help retain heat. Fun fact: compost can reach more than 140 degrees Fahrenheit as microbes get to work on organic matter. This is my first rodeo with decomposition and the presence of slugs is a big hat tip to my efforts from the mollusks. I don’t think the slugs could fit through the holes in the box— it’s almost as if they appeared at the feast from a summoning spell.
About a decade ago now, I had a manager who advised me to focus on the inputs and let the outputs see to themselves. Recently I read somewhere that gardeners tend to the conditions, and the plants grow themselves. I love thinking about getting the setting right for any particular goal. Put the scraps in the box, decomposers appear, and compost is made. Put myself in bed by 10, shut off the lights, and emerge well-rested before the sun. Put ingredients in the kitchen, make simple recipes, and be nourished. Put good books close at hand, pick them up, and feel inspired. Start simple projects, leave them close at hand, and keep things flowing.
Living in the small confines of a sailboat for seven years connected me to the critical role that decomposers play in creating flow in my surroundings. New clothes filtered down to boat work clothes, then rags or rugs. Food scraps were devoured by soups, pizzas, and quiches, and then anything remaining was thrown overboard for the fish. Big goals and experiences get broken down through slow and steady action.
We humans are creative by nature, and it seems to me that our worlds are often congested with our creations. A lot of us in the United States have closets, fridges, and other storage chock full of objects that previously cost us money and time. We are over-consuming resources and have a steady stream of off-cast materials that get carted away by the city every week. More and more, I see people point the finger at industry and the uber-rich, without also looking around and doing their bit. We become overwhelmed by what we can’t control, not realizing that the actions we can do would probably take more time than we even have available.
So anyways, I don’t have big plans for the compost yet, but suspect some will emerge while the slugs continue working away on the compost. At the least, I’ve diverted food scraps that are sure to create methane in the landfill and if I don’t garden here, I can simply spread my compost and make this patch of dirt a little more lively for the next tenant.
12 ways to feel more at home
Sometimes we feel out of place while on the move, and sometimes within the walls of our own homes. Here are some ideas from an adventurous homebody:
Cook
Take a deep breath
Loosen the schedule
Spend time with an animal
Drink a glass of water outside
Help someone else feel welcome
Pick up the phone and call out of the blue
Pack a few activities to spend time in a third space
Take a walk, the longer the better, with no headphones
Dress intentionally with the weather and activity in mind
Tidy up purses, backpacks, closets, or the box under the bed
Bring awareness to the five senses — sight, sound, touch, taste, smell