I said I would never compost. I still have nightmares of my mother sending me out to her cone shaped space capsule – a nineties composter – with a stinking, overflowing, sticky green bin to “dump”. There was never any room in that composter. I think it was overflowing the day she bought it and the fill spout was six inches in diameter. The top of the green bin was 12 inches. Do the math.
I discovered recently that I do have a conscience. I can no longer ignore the state of our planet – it’s watersheds, it’s climate, it’s habitat and all it encompasses. No longer can I see the fruitlessness of doing my part no matter how small. Gone are my days of blissfully tossing my food scraps, tin cans and glass bottles into the garbage. Gone are my guilt free days of blowing my leaves onto the street, flushing unmentionables down the toilet, letting oil leaks go unchecked, chuckling at my neighbors as they hauled out cumbersome recycle bins.
A new vision came with that conscience and, like the Grinch, “…it grew three sizes that day!” A vision of sustainability and accountability. So I reluctantly made space for three recycle bins in my small house – halfway between the kitchen and the front door. In the fall I set up a composter in a convenient location off the kitchen door and deck. Instead of resenting its’ unsightly nature and attempting to hide it, I placed it so it stands out boldly and screams to all the world that here in lies a composter! I hauled the dusty green compost bin in from the barn and display it proudly in my kitchen, pleased when the lid bulges from use and I imagine the crumpled egg shells and coffee grains nourishing plants in my garden next summer. I proudly join my neighbors, an array of flannel pajamas, plaid housecoats and fuzzy slippers, transporting overflowing bins to the curb side.
And I am especially pleased that the lid of my green bin is still 12 inches BUT my composter is 28 inches!