As long as I can remember, composting has been a part of my life. When I was a child, my family kept a small bucket next to the kitchen sink where all food scraps (except meat or fat) were deposited. The bucket was emptied every day onto the compost heap at the back of the yard. My dad talked with excitement about the transformation of these scraps into “black gold," a substance he said would revitalize his backyard gardens, adding nutrients back to the soil. This early inspiration instilled in me a set of organic-gardening practices and good habits for healthy soil and plants that I regularly employ.
At my former home on Turkey Hill, in Westport, Conn., I had a modest composting operation. Into two big wire bins I layered the essential ingredients for good compost: green, nitrogenous matter and brown, carbon-rich materials, to which I added granular lime and the manures of the backyard livestock, including chickens, goats, sheep, even a pig or two. The piles were turned periodically for even decomposition, and in dry weather I watered them. Every year, we had many cubic yards of rich, dark compost to work into the gardens and perennial borders.
In Bedford, composting has become a more serious business. This is due to the fact that I have much more “stuff" to compost from a much bigger piece of property. When I took on the farm more than 10 years ago, I vowed to be as careful with waste as possible, to recycle as much as I possibly could, and to use as many natural materials in building and construction as we could manage.
I have certainly been helped in my composting endeavors by an angry Mother Nature, who for the past five years has sent devastating storms our way — hurricanes, a tornado and a severe October ice storm — each of which has felled hundreds of trees and damaged many shrubs. None of the wood has gone to waste, however. Hardwood tree trunks have been milled into lumber boards for furniture and flooring. Limbs, roots, boughs, leaves and needles have been ground, to greatly diminish the volume and jump-start the process of bacterial decomposition.
I have devoted a field at the farm to this operation: Useless boughs, branches and stumps are stacked in one long mound; livestock manure is piled in another. Extra topsoil from any building excavation is saved in another pile, and weeds, plants and other green matter are collected in yet another. Once a year, we hire the tub-grinder man to bring his equipment for three to five days to double-grind the wooden pieces. These are then combined with the two-, three- or four-year-old piles of mulch to continue the decomposition process. Leaves and other vegetable matter are mixed into the manure pile, which is then covered with giant tarps to maintain a temperature of 126 to 141 degrees; the pile is also turned regularly and screened once it’s decomposed. The act of turning and the high temperature eliminate the weeds.
In the past seven years, we have created a tremendous amount of “black gold." My father would be proud. I love my compost, and the farm needs the compost, but I hope the change in weather patterns we have been experiencing is temporary, and bad storms go back to being a rare occurrence, not yearly or twice-yearly events.