Aug. 14th, 2016

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Compost: it's like the home-made stock of the gardening world. Needs time and ingredients, and it pretty much does the work itself.

In other words, I moved and turned my compost bin this morning. And found a couple of cubic feet of lovely lovely compost at the bottom, as I always do, though I never think I will when I start in at the top. Back home in England, my back yard was essentially a machine for making compost; I had three binsful, and almost no soil to use it in. Here I still feel like I haven't entirely cracked the way of composting in a semi-desert, but I do always surprise myself in the end. With the help of the woodlice, that is. Lots of woodlice, munching away on my behalf. I hope they all remember to migrate next door, to where the bin is now.

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