Compost

When it comes to green, I am rather passive. I wait for Prad to take the lead. One good example is compost. The remains of our uneaten salad do not belong in the garbage bin, I know it and it just does not feel right. Yet, I routinely dump all our organic waste straight into the garbage bin. I can think of many reasons why. When we built our house, we planned for recycling, and installed a separate recycling bin. And we forgot about compost. I could correct the problem and take upon myself to set up a system. I could, but it feels like such a daunting task. It seems so complicated, scientific almost. There are composting seminars, books on compost, special containers to buy for the stuff. Things were much simpler, back in the days of my grandparents. At the farm, I remember, my grandmother would store all the vegetable peels in a bucket, and throw them onto the “fumier”, a huge pile in one corner of our backyard, by the fig tree. The “fumier” was where my grandfather went, when he needed fertilizer for the vegetable garden.