Three years ago when I bought my first house I knew I wanted to backyard compost. But living in the city with a backyard the size of a postage stamp (seriously, we mow our grass with a weed-eater) I was a little nervous that my neighbors would complain. I know- who cares what they think, its my yard. But I really didn't want to be "that" neighbor with the backyard everyone resents.
My anxiety increased when I moved in and saw the yard next door. My neighbors have a fantastic garden. We're talking highly-manicured-English-knot-garden-cascading-fountain-right-out-of-a-magazine yard. I didn't know how they would respond to, "Excuse me, would you mind if I placed my rotting vegetables next to your rose garden?"
While I was sure to be pegged as the nutty environmentalist sooner or later, I rather preferred later, so I looked for an unassuming spot. Easily 90% of my yard can be seen from my neighbor's yard, limiting my options considerably. I also wanted a place that didn't get too much sunlight or wind that would dry out the pile. And it had to be close enough to the house for easy access (especially in the winter when I run outside in my slippers).
Just as I resigned myself to the fact that no perfect place existed and that my neighbors would just have to deal, a miracle happened. In the corner of my neighbor's perfect back yard, up against our shared fence, they placed a homemade (although perfectly crafted) wooden compost bin. That is when I realized any serious gardener worth his or her weight knows the value of backyard compost.
So I promptly put my less fashionable but still respectable bin in the perfect spot. Not only was I reducing my waste and shrinking my carbon footprint as every good little environmentalist should, but I was one step closer to becoming a more serious, albeit not quite English-knot-garden-cascading-waterfall serious, but still serious gardener.
My anxiety increased when I moved in and saw the yard next door. My neighbors have a fantastic garden. We're talking highly-manicured-English-knot-garden-cascading-fountain-right-out-of-a-magazine yard. I didn't know how they would respond to, "Excuse me, would you mind if I placed my rotting vegetables next to your rose garden?"
While I was sure to be pegged as the nutty environmentalist sooner or later, I rather preferred later, so I looked for an unassuming spot. Easily 90% of my yard can be seen from my neighbor's yard, limiting my options considerably. I also wanted a place that didn't get too much sunlight or wind that would dry out the pile. And it had to be close enough to the house for easy access (especially in the winter when I run outside in my slippers).
Just as I resigned myself to the fact that no perfect place existed and that my neighbors would just have to deal, a miracle happened. In the corner of my neighbor's perfect back yard, up against our shared fence, they placed a homemade (although perfectly crafted) wooden compost bin. That is when I realized any serious gardener worth his or her weight knows the value of backyard compost.
So I promptly put my less fashionable but still respectable bin in the perfect spot. Not only was I reducing my waste and shrinking my carbon footprint as every good little environmentalist should, but I was one step closer to becoming a more serious, albeit not quite English-knot-garden-cascading-waterfall serious, but still serious gardener.
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