One of my earliest memories is of being fascinated by the rotting pile of grass cuttings, weeds and prunings my father used to make. Our tortoises emerged from beneath it in the spring and it was a great place to see all kinds of wonderful insects, and even snakes.
My father, I now realise, had no idea how to make compost, and this was just a festering, smelly, airless pile. The art of composting is a thoughtful process, where we consider the qualities of the different materials we add to the heap and mix or layer them accordingly. Combining them creates a bacterial ‘fire’ akin to an alchemical ...
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