It’s Compost Season

We’re rapidly approaching April. Here in the Bitterroot Valley of Montana, it’s “Hey, It’s Spring;” Hey, It’s Winter;” Hey It’s Spring” season. Today I threw the windows open because it hit 70 degrees, yesterday it was 26, windy and snowing so hard we couldn’t see down the street, let alone the mountains that are a few minutes away.

Brad has been inside fabricating for weeks, and a vital piece of equipment arrived yesterday for the Chimney Snake System. Unfortunately it arrived shattered. So the spring bug has hit, to thwart his frustration of having to wait for a replacement.

He’s built a great greenhouse, and we do the happy dance. It’s planting time! But I know, soon, I’ll be once again schooled on the art of composting.

It used to be that I gained cred just putting things in my composting pail. And I do love the fact that we’ve turned 5 acres of dead dirt into beautiful, rich soil full of nutrients and worms. It’s grand! But I have my limits. Now I can’t just dump them into a bin, because we have stepped it up … each bit and morsel must be carefully chopped to certain parameters. I don’t like this as it interferes with the intricate choreography that goes in my kitchen. Which makes me irritable. And sullen.

But now we can see little tiny buds of lettuce and radish peeking their heads above the rich soil. Strawberry runners hanging from pots. Broccoli and cabbage and kale, oh my. So it’s worth a bit of frustration, a bit of extra chopping and grumbling.

But, between us, I still hide some banana skins in the trash. I just have to shove them to the bottom, so the Compost King remains calm and unaware. And to maintain my sanity, and the home serenity