When we moved into the new house in November, I was disappointed to discover that the 4×4 box in the backyard would not make a suitable planter box. The box is placed on a cement patio that is perpetually in the shadow of the house so growing things there is out of the question. Instead, I decided to turn my box into an open-air compost pile - easier said than done.

A good compost pile needs a few simple things to thrive – inputs of nitrogen and carbon from green and brown plant matter, water, oxygen from the air to keep the pile aerobic instead of anaerobic (which can make it prone to stinking), and lot’s of microorganisms. Heat will make the process go faster, and will be created naturally as the microorganisms feverishly break things down. Usually in a low maintenance, no budget pile, the microorganisms come from the soil/compost that gets mixed in during the building process, and from the ground underneath it. Since my box was already full of old potting soil and other dirt, I assumed it must be full of helpful little critters just waiting to eat my yard and kitchen waste. We all know what happens when we assume things.

In mid December, a few weeks after I buried my first batch of vegetable scraps, I decided to check on the decomposition progress. I was disappointed to discover that the veggie peelings were in perfect condition, as if they had been living in my refrigerator for the last three weeks. The dirt in the box was cool to the touch but I knew that the temperature would work itself out given some time - winter does get chilly in San Diego, especially in the shade. It also seemed too dry so I dutifully began adding the nightly rinse water from our dishes (we use non-toxic, biodegradable, gray water system safe soap), until the moisture content seemed better.

By the time I returned home from my Christmas vacation in Pennsylvania, the scraps had been buried for five or six weeks, and yet there was still no sign of rot. I was miffed.

I decided to try a test that I learned during my workshop at La Milpa Organica. During a demonstration on soil health, Barry poured a bit of peroxide on a soil sample from a newly dug bed, and a second sample from his compost pile, explaining that the test indicates whether or not you have living soil. Like a homemade volcano, the piles bubbled and fizzed, pulsing with life and energy. Especially the compost.

I poured a tablespoon of peroxide on a sample of dirt from the backyard, and watched as it began fizzing and spitting – not much, but it was clearly doing something. When I did the same with a sample from my compost pile, it just sat there, bubbled slightly, then fizzled out. Ugh. My kitchen scraps weren’t decomposing because my soil was dead, i.e. no little critters to break them down. No critters, no rot, no compost.

At this point I could have gone to a gardening store and bought a package of microorganisms to put in my pile, but I’m frugal and figured that with a little time, patience, and effort, I could turn my dead pile of dirt into a teaming pile of hungry, compost-creating life. First I added a few scoops of dirt from my yard – it may not have had a lot of fizz, but it had more than my box. Second, I dug up some worms from my yard and threw them into the box.

Throughout January I regularly fed, watered, and aerated the pile by turning it once a week or so. In addition to kitchen scraps, I began adding lawn clippings, which I spread out until they turned from green to brown, before mixing them into the pile. We were blessed with some fantastic rainstorms that month, which both thoroughly soaked the pile, and provided an opportunity for some easy critter picking. I added every worm I found wriggling on the pavement after the rain, along with several more cups of dirt and at least a few more worms courtesy of the pocket gopher that has taken up residence in our backyard.

It’s now the middle of February, and I am happy to report that, while the processes is still taking it’s grand old time, I have successfully created an environment conducive to rot – a condition which I long ago mastered in my kitchen – but which took me a good three months to produce intentionally in my compost pile. Go figure.

I had always thought of urban foraging like a treasure hunt.  Sneaking through the bush, avoiding questioning eyes, searching high and low to seek my quarry – ripe fruit for the taking. Reality was slightly different.  In broad daylight, I pulled my car up to the curb, hopped out, and scavenged my first fallen fruit.  No fuss, no muss, and certainly no sneaking. Two little lemons saved from certain death by car tire, pulled off the street by a good Samaritan (me), and now destined for greatness in my kitchen.  Ok maybe not greatness, but at least a more purposeful demise than they could have expected otherwise. …read full article…