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Hello, Everyone!  It looks as if all my posts from Vegan Wayfarer were uploaded here with no problems.  I should probably fix some of my older photos but I know I probably won’t.  Chalk it up to learning and move on, right?

I’ve been adjusting to a new schedule at a new job and working on my manuscript so haven’t been posting here.  It turns out blogs don’t write themselves and do not benefit from being ignored.  However, you know what does benefit from being ignored?  Compost.  (How’s that for a segue?!)

I admit it, I began composting with the best of intentions but then got busy and let it fall by the wayside.  Still, the compost bin continued to do its thing and, when I checked it earlier in the year, it was full of lovely black soil; fragrant, rich, intoxicating.  There’s something thrilling about vegetable scraps and shredded paper (printed with vegetable inks) turning from a hot mess-literally and figuratively-into nutrient rich soil just waiting to be used for planting.

My composting adventure didn’t start out all that well.  I ordered a compact bin I figured I could handle from Home Depot and, when it arrived, assembled it in my front room before carrying it outside to its home by my fence.  It’s dual chambered; the concept being I can add scraps to one side while the compost cooks in the other.


My compost bin and a tub of compost ready to use.

I began adding scraps from my cooking processes and they began to ferment inside the bin.  Then came the smell.  I always used to watch “Labyrinth” and laugh at the bog of eternal stench, then I began composting and it was no longer funny.  Before my neighbors could camp out on my front lawn with pitchforks and torches, and before my family could happily toss me to them, I went to Google.  Google educated me in such terms as “green” and “brown” materials necessary for a healthy compost bin.  My compost was all green with no brown, a situation I quickly remedied.  The smell abated and the crisis was averted.

Even left forgotten, the compost bin did its thing and I ended up with half a bin of lovely, lovely black dirt.  It smells like the richest potting soil and inspires me to use words like “loam” and “worm casings”.  I let it get wet when it rains and stir it with a pitchfork, an act that makes me feel like I’m already a gardener.  I can’t wait to use it.  I’m going to try my hand at planting herbs first.  I’m having trouble finding bulk herbs in my local grocery stores and I wince at paying 4 bucks for six leaves of mint.  I’d also like to try my hand at growing tomatoes though I’m aware they don’t do so well in Colorado.  Once I’ve nailed down sprouting and growing a few things, I’ve got an old fort in the backyard I’d like to use for gardening.  There are already uprights for beans and places to hang pots.  But first things first.  No worries.  I’ve purchased a book on gardening in small spaces and have the fall and winter months to educate myself.  Next stop, seedlings.


I was going to try to get a picture of the entire fort but the wasps had laid claim to the place I was standing. I let them have it. For now.