Every week a typical kitchen produces a steady stream of teabags, potato peelings, apple cores, coffee grounds and slightly sad lettuce leaves. Bagged up and sent to landfill, that material breaks down without oxygen and produces methane. Returned to a compost heap, it becomes something altogether more valuable: dark, crumbly, sweet-smelling compost that holds water like a sponge, feeds the soil life beneath your feet and releases nutrients slowly to whatever you happen to be growing.
For anyone with a bit of outdoor space — a village garden, a smallholding, a couple of raised beds behind a cottage — composting is the cheapest soil improvement you will ever make. It costs nothing but a little attention, and it turns a waste problem into next year's growing medium. The trick is not mystery or expensive equipment. It is simply getting four things into roughly the right proportion: greens, browns, air and moisture.
Most fruit and vegetable preparation waste is ideal. So are tea leaves, coffee grounds and their paper filters, crushed eggshells, stale bread in small quantities, and spent houseplant foliage. These are your greens: nitrogen-rich, wet and quick to break down.
Your browns are the dry, carbon-rich, fibrous materials that balance them out:
Keep out anything cooked, along with meat, fish, dairy, oils and greasy leftovers. In the countryside, rats, foxes and badgers will find an open heap soon enough, and cooked food is an open invitation. Also avoid diseased plant material, perennial weed roots such as bindweed and couch grass, glossy magazines, and cat or dog faeces. Citrus peel and onion skins are fine in moderation — they break down more slowly, so chop them small.
Aim for roughly two to three parts browns to one part greens by volume. This is the single most useful rule, and it is easier to judge by feel than by weight. A heap that is too green turns slimy, smells sour and attracts flies. A heap that is too brown sits there dry and lifeless for months.
The classic test is the squeeze. Take a handful from the middle and wring it out. It should feel like a wrung-out sponge — damp, but not dripping. If water runs out, you have too much green and need to fork in more cardboard or straw. If it crumbles and feels dusty, add kitchen scraps, grass cuttings or a little water from a watering can.
Composting is an aerobic process. The bacteria and fungi doing the work need oxygen, and they need it throughout the heap, not just at the edges. This is why layering alone is not enough — you have to turn it.
A well-built heap will heat up within a few days, sometimes reaching 60–70°C in the middle. That heat is a good sign — it kills many weed seeds and speeds everything along. As the heap matures, the temperature falls and the material turns darker and more crumbly.
For a small garden, a lidded plastic bin with a hatch at the base is perfectly adequate, though you will need to fork it out occasionally to aerate it. On a larger plot, a three-bay system built from wooden pallets is hard to beat: fill one bay, turn it into the next, and let the third finish.
Site your heap on bare soil or a few inches of twiggy material, never on concrete, so worms and soil organisms can move in from below. Partial shade suits it best — full sun dries it out, deep shade keeps it cold. If space allows, run two heaps side by side so one can mature while you keep filling the other. Where rats and badgers are a real nuisance, a sealed tumbler or a wormery for kitchen waste alone solves the problem neatly.
Depending on the season and how often you turn it, compost takes anywhere from four months to a year. It is ready when it is dark brown or black, crumbly, smells earthy rather than sour, and you can no longer recognise what went into it. Any lumps that survive can be sieved out and thrown back into the new heap as a starter.
Use it as a mulch spread 5–8cm deep around perennials and fruit bushes, fork it into vegetable beds in autumn, or mix it with sieved soil and leafmould for potting. A couple of handfuls in the planting hole of a new shrub gives it a very good start in life. Feed the heap, and the heap feeds everything else.
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I must explain to you how all this mistaken idea of denouncing pleasure and praising pain was born and I will give you a complete account of the system
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I must explain to you how all this mistaken idea of denouncing pleasure and praising pain was born and I will give you a complete account of the system
Reply
I must explain to you how all this mistaken idea of denouncing pleasure and praising pain was born and I will give you a complete account of the system
Reply
I must explain to you how all this mistaken idea of denouncing pleasure and praising pain was born and I will give you a complete account of the system
Reply
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