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Steve Solomon >> Organic Gardener\'s Composting
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16 Created by: Steve Solomon ssolomon@soilandhealth.org
Organic Gardener's Composting
by Steve Solomon
Foreword
Back in the '70's, I made the momentous move from the East Coast to
the West and quickly discovered that much of my garden knowledge
needed an update. Seattle's climate was unlike anything I had
experienced in Massachusetts or Ohio or Colorado, and many of my
favorite vegetables simply didn't grow well. A friend steered me to
a new seed company, a tiny business called Territorial Seed, unique
in that, rather than trying to tout its wares all over the country,
it would only sell to people living west of the Cascade Mountains.
Every vegetable and cover crop listed had been carefully tested and
selected by Steve Solomon for its performance in the maritime
Northwest.
The 1980's saw the revival of regional gardening, a concept once
widely accepted, but since lost to the sweeping homogeneity of the
'50s and '60s. Steve Solomon and his Territorial Seed Company
directly influenced the return of regional garden making by creating
an awareness of climatic differences and by providing quantities of
helpful information specific to this area. Not only could customers
order regionally appropriate, flavorful and long-lasting vegetables
from the Territorial catalog's pages, we could also find recipes for
cooking unfamiliar ones, as well as recipes for building organic
fertilizers of all sorts. Territorial's catalog offered information
about organic or environmentally benign pest and disease controls,
seasonal cover crops, composts and mulches, and charts guiding us to
optimal planting patterns. Every bit of it was the fruit of Steve
Solomon's work and observation. I cannot begin to calculate the
disappointments and losses Steve helped me to avoid, nor the hours
of effort he saved for me and countless other regional gardeners. We
came to rely on his word, for we found we could; If Steve said this
or that would grow in certain conditions, by gum, it would. Better
yet, if he didn't know something, or was uncertain about it, he said
so, and asked for our input. Before long, a network of
environmentally concerned gardeners had formed around Territorial's
customer base, including several Tilth communities, groups of
gardeners concerned with promoting earth stewardship and organic
husbandry in both rural and urban settings.
In these days of generalized eco-awareness, it is easy to forget
that a few short years ago, home gardeners were among the worst
environmental offenders, cheerfully poisoning anything that annoyed
them with whatever dreadful chemical that came to hand, unconscious
of the long-term effects on fauna and flora, water and soil. Now,
thank goodness, many gardeners know that their mandate is to heal
the bit of earth in their charge. Composting our home and garden
wastes is one of the simplest and most beneficial things we can do,
both to cut down the quantity of wastes we produce, and to restore
health to the soil we garden upon I can think of no better guide to
the principles and techniques of composting than Steve Solomon.
Whether you live in an urban condo or farm many acres, you will find
in these pages practical, complete and accessible information that
serves your needs, served up with the warmth and gentle humor that
characterizes everything Steve does.
Ann Lovejoy, Bainbridge Island, Washington, 1993
To My Readers
A few special books live on in my mind. These were always enjoyable
reading. The author's words seemed to speak directly to me like a
good friend's conversation pouring from their eyes, heart and soul.
When I write I try to make the same thing happen for you. I imagine
that there is an audience hearing my words, seated in invisible
chairs behind my word processor. You are part of that group. I
visualize you as solidly as I can. I create by talking to you.
It helps me to imagine that you are friendly, accepting, and
understand my ideas readily. Then I relax, enjoy writing to you and
proceed with an open heart. Most important, when the creative
process has been fun, the writing still sparkles when I polish it up
the next day.
I wrote my first garden book for an audience of one: what seemed a
very typical neighbor, someone who only thought he knew a great deal
about raising vegetables. Constitutionally, he would only respect
and learn from a capital "A" authority who would direct him
step-by-step as a cookbook recipe does. So that is what I pretended
to be. The result was a concise, basic regional guide to year-round
vegetable production. Giving numerous talks on gardening and
teaching master gardener classes improved my subsequent books. With
this broadening, I expanded my imaginary audience and filled the
invisible chairs with all varieties of gardeners who had differing
needs and goals.
This particular book gives me an audience problem. Simultaneously I
have two quite different groups of composters in mind. What one set
wants the other might find boring or even irritating. The smaller
group includes serious food gardeners like me. Vegetable gardeners
have traditionally been acutely interested in composting, soil
building, and maintaining soil organic matter. We are willing to
consider anything that might help us grow a better garden and we
enjoy agricultural science at a lay person's level.
The other larger audience, does not grow food at all, or if they do
it is only a few tomato plants in a flower bed. A few are apartment
dwellers who, at best, keep a few house plants. Yet even renters may
want to live with greater environmental responsibility by avoiding
unnecessary contributions of kitchen garbage to the sewage treatment
system. Similarly, modern home owners want to stop sending yard
wastes to landfills. These days householders may be offered
incentives (or threatened with penalties) by their municipalities to
separate organic, compostable garbage from paper, from glass, from
metal or from plastic. Individuals who pay for trash pickup by
volume are finding that they can save considerable amounts of money
by recycling their own organic wastes at home.
The first audience is interested in learning about the role of
compost in soil fertility, better soil management methods and
growing healthier, more nutritious food. Much like a serious home
bread baker, audience one seeks exacting composting recipes that
might result in higher quality. Audience two primarily wants to know
the easiest and most convenient way to reduce and recycle organic
debris.
Holding two conflicting goals at once is the fundamental definition
of a problem. Not being willing to abandon either (or both) goals is
what keeps a problem alive. Different and somewhat opposing needs of
these two audiences make this book somewhat of a problem. To
compensate I have positioned complex composting methods and the
connections between soil fertility and plant health toward the back
of the book. The first two-thirds may be more than sufficient for
the larger, more casual members of my imaginary audience. But I
could not entirely divide the world of composting into two
completely separate levels.
Instead, I tried to write a book so interesting that readers who do
not food garden will still want to read it to the end and will
realize that there are profound benefits from at-home food
production. These run the gamut from physical and emotional health
to enhanced economic liberty. Even if it doesn't seem to
specifically apply to your recycling needs, it is my hope that you
will become more interested in growing some of your own food. I
believe we would have a stronger, healthier and saner country if
more liberty-loving Americans would grow food gardens.
CHAPTER ONE
What Is Compost
Do you know what really happens when things rot? Have other garden
books confused you with vague meanings for words like "stabilized
humus?" This book won't. Are you afraid that compost making is a
nasty, unpleasant, or difficult process? It isn't.
A compost pile is actually a fast-track method of changing crude
organic materials into something resembling soil, called humus. But
the word "humus" is often misunderstood, along with the words
"compost," and "organic matter." And when fundamental ideas like
these are not really defined in a person's mind, the whole subject
they are a part of may be confused. So this chapter will clarify
these basics.
Compost making is a simple process. Done properly it becomes a
natural part of your gardening or yard maintenance activities, as
much so as mowing the lawn. And making compost does not have to take
any more effort than bagging up yard waste.
Handling well-made compost is always a pleasant experience. It is
easy to disregard compost's vulgar origins because there is no
similarity between the good-smelling brown or black crumbly
substance dug out of a compost pile and the manure, garbage, leaves,
grass clippings and other waste products from which it began.
Precisely defined, composting means 'enhancing the consumption of
crude organic matter by a complex ecology of biological
decomposition organisms.' As raw organic materials are eaten and
re-eaten by many, many tiny organisms from bacteria (the smallest)
to earthworms (the largest), their components are gradually altered
and recombined. Gardeners often use the terms organic matter,
compost, and humus as interchangeable identities. But there are
important differences in meaning that need to be explained.
This stuff, this organic matter we food gardeners are vitally
concerned about, is formed by growing plants that manufacture the
substances of life. Most organic molecules are very large, complex
assemblies while inorganic materials are much simpler. Animals can
break down, reassemble and destroy organic matter but they cannot
create it. Only plants can make organic materials like cellulose,
proteins, and sugars from inorganic minerals derived from soil, air
or water. The elements plants build with include calcium, magnesium,
potassium, phosphorus, sodium, sulfur, iron, zinc, cobalt, boron,
manganese, molybdenum, carbon, nitrogen, oxygen, and hydrogen.
So organic matter from both land and sea plants fuels the entire
chain of life from worms to whales. Humans are most familiar with
large animals; they rarely consider that the soil is also filled
with animal life busily consuming organic matter or each other. Rich
earth abounds with single cell organisms like bacteria,
actinomycetes, fungi, protozoa, and rotifers. Soil life forms
increase in complexity to microscopic round worms called nematodes,
various kinds of mollusks like snails and slugs (many so tiny the
gardener has no idea they are populating the soil), thousands of
almost microscopic soil-dwelling members of the spider family that
zoologists call arthropods, the insects in all their profusion and
complexity, and, of course, certain larger soil animals most of us
are familiar with such as moles. The entire sum of all this organic
matter: living plants, decomposing plant materials, and all the
animals, living or dead, large and small is sometimes called
_biomass._ One realistic way to gauge the fertility of any
particular soil body is to weigh the amount of biomass it sustains.
_Humus_ is a special and very important type of decomposed organic
matter. Although scientists have been intently studying humus for a
century or more, they still do not know its chemical formula. It is
certain that humus does not have a single chemical structure, but is
a very complex mixture of similar substances that vary according to
the types of organic matter that decayed, and the environmental
conditions and specific organisms that made the humus.
Whatever its varied chemistry, all humus is brown or black, has a
fine, crumbly texture, is very light-weight when dry, and smells
like fresh earth. It is sponge-like, holding several times its
weight in water. Like clay, humus attracts plant nutrients like a
magnet so they aren't so easily washed away by rain or irrigation.
Then humus feeds nutrients back to plants. In the words of soil
science, this functioning like a storage battery for minerals is
called cation exchange capacity. More about that later.
Most important, humus is the last stage in the decomposition of
organic matter. Once organic matter has become humus it resists
further decomposition. Humus rots slowly. When humus does get broken
down by soil microbes it stops being organic matter and changes back
to simple inorganic substances. This ultimate destruction of organic
matter is often called nitrification because one of the main
substances released is nitrate--that vital fertilizer that makes
plants grow green and fast.
Probably without realizing it, many non-gardeners have already
scuffed up that thin layer of nearly pure humus forming naturally on
the forest floor where leaves and needles contact the soil. Most
Americans would be repelled by many of the substances that decompose
into humus. But, fastidious as we tend to be, most would not be
offended to barehandedly cradle a scoop of humus, raise it to the
nose, and take an enjoyable sniff. There seems to be something built
into the most primary nature of humans that likes humus.
In nature, the formation of humus is a slow and constant process
that does not occur in a single step. Plants grow, die and finally
fall to earth where soil-dwelling organisms consume them and each
other until eventually there remains no recognizable trace of the
original plant. Only a small amount of humus is left, located close
to the soil's surface or carried to the depths by burrowing
earthworms. Alternately, the growing plants are eaten by animals
that do not live in the soil, whose manure falls to the ground where
it comes into contact with soil-dwelling organisms that eat it and
each other until there remains no recognizable trace of the original
material. A small amount of humus is left. Or the animal itself
eventually dies and falls to the earth where ....
Composting artificially accelerates the decomposition of crude
organic matter and its recombination into humus. What in nature
might take years we can make happen in weeks or months. But compost
that seems ready to work into soil may not have quite yet become
humus. Though brown and crumbly and good-smelling and well
decomposed, it may only have partially rotted.
When tilled into soil at that point, compost doesn't act at once
like powerful fertilizer and won't immediately contribute to plant
growth until it has decomposed further. But if composting is allowed
to proceed until virtually all of the organic matter has changed
into humus, a great deal of biomass will be reduced to a relatively
tiny remainder of a very valuable substance far more useful than
chemical fertilizer.
For thousands of years gardeners and farmers had few fertilizers
other than animal manure and compost. These were always considered
very valuable substances and a great deal of lore existed about
using them. During the early part of this century, our focus changed
to using chemicals; organic wastes were often considered nuisances
with little value. These days we are rediscovering compost as an
agent of soil improvement and also finding out that we must compost
organic waste materials to recycle them in an ecologically sound
manner.
Making Compost
The closest analogies to composting I can imagine are concocting
similar fermented products like bread, beer, or sauerkraut. But
composting is much less demanding. Here I can speak with authority,
for during my era of youthful indiscretions I made homebrews good
enough have visitors around my kitchen table most every evening.
Now, having reluctantly been instructed in moderation by a liver
somewhat bruised from alcohol, I am the family baker who turns out
two or three large, rye/wheat loaves from freshly ground grain every
week without fail.
Brew is dicey. Everything must be sterilized and the fermentation
must go rapidly in a narrow range of temperatures. Should stray
organisms find a home during fermentation, foul flavors and/or
terrible hangovers may result. The wise homebrewer starts with the
purest and best-suited strain of yeast a professional laboratory can
supply. Making beer is a process suited to the precisionist
mentality, it must be done just so. Fortunately, with each batch we
use the same malt extracts, the same hops, same yeast, same
flavorings and, if we are young and foolish, the same monosaccarides
to boost the octane over six percent. But once the formula is found
and the materials worked out, batch after batch comes out as
desired.
So it is with bread-making. The ingredients are standardized and
repeatable. I can inexpensively buy several bushels of wheat- and
rye-berries at one time, enough to last a year. Each sack from that
purchase has the same baking qualities. The minor ingredients that
modify my dough's qualities or the bread's flavors are also
repeatable. My yeast is always the same; if I use sourdough starter,
my individualized blend of wild yeasts remains the same from batch
to batch and I soon learn its nature. My rising oven is always close
to the same temperature; when baking I soon learn to adjust the oven
temperature and baking time to produce the kind of crust and
doneness I desire. Precisionist, yes. I must bake every batch
identically if I want the breads to be uniformly good. But not
impossibly rigorous because once I learn my materials and oven, I've
got it down pat.
Composting is similar, but different and easier. Similar in that
decomposition is much like any other fermentation. Different in that
the home composter rarely has exactly the same materials to work
with from batch to batch, does not need to control the purity and
nature of the organisms that will do the actual work of humus
formation, and has a broad selection of materials that can go into a
batch of compost. Easier because critical and fussy people don't eat
or drink compost, the soil does; soil and most plants will, within
broad limits, happily tolerate wide variations in compost quality
without complaint.
Some composters are very fussy and much like fine bakers or skilled
brewers, take great pains to produce a material exactly to their
liking by using complex methods. Usually these are food gardeners
with powerful concerns about health, the nutritional quality of the
food they grow and the improved growth of their vegetables. However,
there are numerous simpler, less rigorous ways of composting that
produce a product nearly as good with much less work. These more
basic methods will appeal to the less-committed backyard gardener or
the homeowner with lawn, shrubs, and perhaps a few flower beds. One
unique method suited to handling kitchen garbage--vermicomposting
(worms)--might appeal even to the ecologically concerned apartment
dweller with a few house plants.
An Extremely Crude Composting Process
I've been evolving a personally-adapted composting system for the
past twenty years. I've gone through a number of methods. I've used
and then abandoned power chipper/shredders, used home-made bins and
then switched to crude heaps; I've sheet composted, mulched, and
used green manure. I first made compost on a half-acre lot where
maintaining a tidy appearance was a reasonable concern. Now, living
in the country, I don't have be concerned with what the neighbors
think of my heaps because the nearest neighbor's house is 800 feet
from my compost area and I live in the country because I don't much
care to care what my neighbors think.
That's why I now compost so crudely. There are a lot of refinements
I could use but don't bother with at this time. I still get fine
compost. What follows should be understood as a description of my
unique, personal method adapted to my temperament and the climate I
live in. I start this book off with such a simple example because I
want you to see how completely easy it can be to make perfectly
usable compost. I intend this description for inspiration, not
emulation.
I am a serious food gardener. Starting in spring I begin to
accumulate large quantities of vegetation that demand handling.
There are woody stumps and stalks of various members of the cabbage
family that usually overwinter in western Oregon's mild winters.
These biennials go into bloom by April and at that point I pull them
from the garden with a fair amount of soil adhering to the roots.
These rough materials form the bottom layer of a new pile.
Since the first principle of abundant living is to produce two or
three times as much as you think you'll need, my overly-large garden
yields dozens and dozens of such stumps and still more dozens of
uneaten savoy cabbages, more dozens of three foot tall Brussels
sprouts stalks and cart loads of enormous blooming kale plants. At
the same time, from our insulated but unheated garage comes buckets
and boxes of sprouting potatoes and cart loads of moldy uneaten
winter squashes. There may be a few crates of last fall's withered
apples as well. Sprouting potatoes, mildewed squash, and shriveled
apples are spread atop the base of brassica stalks.
I grow my own vegetable seed whenever possible, particularly for
biennials such as brassicas, beets and endive. During summer these
generate large quantities of compostable straw after the seed is
thrashed. Usually there is a big dry bean patch that also produces a
lot of straw. There are vegetable trimmings, and large quantities of
plant material when old spring-sown beds are finished and the soil
is replanted for fall harvest. With the first frost in October there
is a huge amount of garden clean up.
As each of these materials is acquired it is temporarily placed next
to the heap awaiting the steady outpourings from our 2-1/2 gallon
kitchen compost pail. Our household generates quite a bit of
garbage, especially during high summer when we are canning or
juicing our crops. But we have no flies or putrid garbage smells
coming from the compost pile because as each bucketful is spread
over the center of the pile the garbage is immediately covered by
several inches of dried or wilted vegetation and a sprinkling of
soil.
By October the heap has become about six feet high, sixteen feet
long and about seven feet wide at the base. I've made no attempt to
water this pile as it was built, so it is quite dry and has hardly
decomposed at all. Soon those winter rains that the Maritime
northwest is famous for arrive. From mid-October through mid-April
it drizzles almost every day and rains fairly hard on occasion. Some
45 inches of water fall. But the pile is loosely stacked with lots
of air spaces within and much of the vegetation started the winter
in a dry, mature form with a pretty hard "bark" or skin that resists
decomposition. Winter days average in the high 40s, so little
rotting occurs.
Still, by next April most of the pile has become quite wet. Some
garbagey parts of it have decomposed significantly, others not at
all; most of it is still quite recognizable but much of the
vegetation has a grayish coating of microorganisms or has begun to
turn light brown. Now comes the only two really hard hours of
compost-making effort each year. For a good part of one morning I
turn the pile with a manure fork and shovel, constructing a new pile
next to the old one.
First I peel off the barely-rotted outer four or five inches from
the old pile; this makes the base of the new one. Untangling the
long stringy grasses, seed stalks, and Brussels sprout stems from
the rest can make me sweat and even curse, but fortunately I must
stop occasionally to spray water where the material remains dry and
catch my wind. Then, I rearrange the rest so half-decomposed
brassica stumps and other big chunks are placed in the center where
the pile will become the hottest and decomposition will proceed most
rapidly. As I reform the material, here and there I lightly sprinkle
a bit of soil shoveled up from around the original pile. When I've
finished turning it, the new heap is about five feet high, six feet
across at the bottom, and about eight feet long. The outside is then
covered with a thin layer of crumbly, black soil scraped up where
the pile had originally stood before I turned it.
Using hand tools for most kinds of garden work, like weeding,
cultivating, tilling, and turning compost heaps is not as difficult
or nearly as time consuming as most people think if one has the
proper, sharp tools. Unfortunately, the knowledge of how to use hand
tools has largely disappeared. No one has a farm-bred grandfather to
show them how easy it is to use a sharp shovel or how impossibly
hard it can be to drive a dull one into the soil. Similarly, weeding
with a _sharp_ hoe is effortless and fast. But most new hoes are
sold without even a proper bevel ground into the blade, much less
with an edge that has been carefully honed. So after working with
dull shovels and hoes, many home food growers mistakenly conclude
that cultivation is not possible without using a rotary tiller for
both tillage and weeding between rows. But instead of an expensive
gasoline-powered machine all they really needed was a little
knowledge and a two dollar file.
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