Alfred Austin said, "Show me your garden and I will tell you what you are".

Most days my garden would tell you that I err on the side of laziness.  Rows and digging are left behind for a more cottage garden, laid back approach.  There is no real order, no real plan...just plants growing next to things that won't kill them.  Most years I am slightly surprised we get anything edible amidst this mess.  But benign neglect serves us plate after plate of beans, squash, herbs and lettuce every year.

At this early point in the season, my inattention has served us well yet again... We inherited a plastic compost bin with this house.  The first year we lived here, I diligently mixed and activated my compost.  But I got bored.  The compost bin filled and I did nothing.

Fast forward 2 years and all spring long sorting out the compost bin has been one of those I have been meaning to get around to doing...but never did.  Until yesterday.

In a fit of "I must be a better person" angst, I pulled the plastic off.

 

I was completely expecting to have to start again after digging out a container of disgusting slimy mass.  However, buried under 3 feet of dried shrivelled and un-decomposed matter was:

A dark black heap of sweet smelling compost had been waiting for me. A quick sieve and a bit of heavy duty mixing, 100L of the black gold is ready to grow food. Making something out of rubbish is nothing short of miraculous. 

So yesterday, at least, I followed Margaret Atwood's advice "In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt". I did...my own.