“Before you start turning it,” grandpa’s brother Russell said, “dig your hand in there deep, up to your elbow.”  I put the pitchfork aside and drove my arm into the heap--"Wow, that's hot!"  “Yes sir,” he declared, “that compost pile is cooking good.  It’s big enough, has a little moisture, and there’s plenty of both green and brown stuff chopped up pretty well.  Now if you turn it and loosen it up, it’ll get lots of air and keep right on cooking down.”  Then, exercise; old-fashioned hard work.  That evening, uncle Russell finished planting his seeds in me with a booklet on composting, which I devoured before sleep.
         It was the early 90s; I was exploring my roots in the wooded rolling hills of southern Indiana.  Nearing their 80s, Russell and his wife Ruth were both retired music teachers.  Along with music and Ruth, Russell’s passions were for world travel and gardening.  Living an inexpensive small-town life and growing much of their own food, they saved money and travelled the world.
         An original organic gardener, Russell had always declined the herbicides, pesticides, and synthetic fertilizers that began flooding the market after World War II.  He knew that healthy soil and intelligent mixing and rotation of crops would ensure good harvests into the future.  Produce from his big garden kept Ruth busy canning, drying, and freezing food that would sustain them through winter and well into spring.
         As a child I had barely known them, but during my several visits Ruth and Russell inspired me with their music, frugality, sense of adventure, and zest for life.  When I turned Russell’s pile and read his book, I knew I was also destined to compost.
         When I was a kid, we had five trash cans; grass clippings and yard debris all went to the dump.  What a waste!  With time, that stuff becomes the best possible fertilizer.  Landfill space was cheap back then, but now it’s precious and much better used for, say, disposable diapers, plastic packaging, and retired hot-water heaters.
         I composted some as a renter, but started in earnest in ‘97 when we bought our house.  With Russell in mind, I declared myself compost king of our new dominion.  Following a book diagram, I used mostly recycled redwood along with heavy wire mesh to build a large, attractive bin with three compartments, each being 3’ high, 3’ wide, and 5’ deep.  This remains my best carpentry to date; the bin should last a long time.
         You don’t really need a container.  Whatever you do, compost eventually “happens.”  But a bin can improve the aesthetics, which may be especially important if you live in town.  There are many types and sizes of bins, just as there are countless ways to compost.  The key is to have or develop a system adapted to your unique situation.  My methods are evolving quite differently from Uncle Russell’s.
         Woody brush and tree prunings can be a problem--this stuff won’t compost well since it takes years to decompose.  I see why some neighbors burn it, but still I quietly choke and curse when they do.  We save it up and maybe once a year haul it to the big composting center visible from southbound Highway 101 in Arcata (non-Arcata residents pay a small fee).  Another solution would be to borrow a chipper-shredder and compost the results; an equitable neighborhood tool-exchange would be great for such expensive and rarely-used items.
         Anyway, we store woody stuff in one of the three bins; the others are for active piles.  Grass clippings would compost beautifully, but our “mulching” mower recycles them directly back into our small lawn.  All other yard waste, spent garden plants, kitchen scraps, and wood stove ashes go in the compost.  Forbidden items--destined for trash and landfill--include meat scraps and grease (which we don’t generate anyway), dog and cat feces, and a few invasive plants we hope to eradicate or at least minimize, mainly bind-weed and blackberry.  We compost less aggressive weeds.  Winter “cover crops” like fava beans loosen the soil and fix nitrogen in it, outcompete weeds, attract pollinating insects early in the season, and provide lots of green material for starting a new pile in the spring.  We collect kitchen scraps in a small bucket which I frequently empty into a miniature trash can (with tight lid!) just outside.  Every couple weeks I add this stuff to the compost, always burying it under drier material so the top of the heap is never slimy.
         At first I worried about noxious odors and flies, but neither has been a problem.  Along with beneficial bacteria that heat the pile while performing the bulk of decomposition, many friendly and harmless bugs live in or around our compost--including the roly-poly “pill bugs” that connect me to childhood.  All these critters--both macro and microscopic--contribute in unique ways to the composting process.  Along with air, they need moisture.  In summer I occasionally sprinkle water on the pile, but in winter I cover it with a tarp so our heavy rains don’t drown the critters and turn everything into a slimy mess.
         Finished compost is beautiful.  Dark brown and crumbly, it adds texture along with nutrients to the soil.  It improves drainage and aeration in clay soils, and aids water retention in sandy soils.  We have two garden plots; one is an abandoned alley that had probably never been worked before.  We’ve pulled countless buckets of rocks from the hard clay soil, along with rusted springs, piston rods, and other antique junk.  We’ve added lots of compost and now after three years the soil is becoming a lot easier to work and much more productive.
         At first, I turned my pile every few weeks like uncle Russell.  I quickly saw this was way more work than I wanted.  Turning enables faster decomposition, but what’s the rush?  I figured if we could recycle all our yard and kitchen waste and have a big batch of finished compost every spring, that was good enough for me.  Then my neighbor showed me a magical ingredient:  horse manure.
         It’s free for the shovelling at Redwood Acres.  Last fall, I lined my wife’s small pickup with a tarp and loaded it full.  At home, I alternated layers of our partially composted stuff with layers of manure, completely filling two compartments in our big bin.  It steamed for a couple days and shrunk down quickly.  I added kitchen scraps all winter; they quickly disappeared.  I never did turn those piles, but this spring we had two bins each half full with finished compost--about 25 wheelbarrows in all.  What’s more, this soil elixir was loaded with big wiggling red worms--if you build it, they will come!  We borrowed our neighbor’s rototiller and got the soil fluffy before adding compost and worms; we hope the little guys are still tunnelling around down there.
         I recently got another load of manure in what will probably be an annual event.  While I shovelled, a horsewoman smiled and laughed when I said “Thankyou!” as she dumped a load at my feet.  I got plenty of exercise that day, and will probably get the pitchfork and turn one of the piles in the fall when we have lots of dying garden plants to chop up and add.  After that I plan no major work until we harvest our garden’s reward next spring.
         Many books discuss composting.  “The Rodale Book of Composting” is a complete guide by people who’ve published “Organic Gardening” magazine since 1942.  J.I. Rodale was an organic farming and gardening pioneer who deeply influenced my uncle Russell, and others in the Rodale family have continued his work.
         Free workshops in backyard composting are regularly given in Arcata (information, 822-8184).  No single method is right for everyone, but each can find or develop techniques tailored for a unique situation.
         In addition to saving landfill space and enriching our life-giving soil, composting puts us in closer touch with the universal cycle of life, death, decay, development, rebirth, new growth, and flowering of the spirit.  Composting reminds us that we belong to the natural world, regardless of illusions our culture may promulgate.  Composting teaches us that often, “waste is just a resource that is out of place.”
         I hope this article stimulates at least one person to take up composting--that way I’ll pass on the fun and exciting gift Uncle Russell gave to me.