Every good garden has it’s own compost.
Mine has one too.
Ingredients: desire to be the perfect example of the perfect gardener, wearing the right gloves bought on discount but still costing more than the cheapo ones, the failed startings of plants I “borrowed” from other gardeners before I knew that I can’t grow the same things in MY garden as others… My compost is full of low self esteem, 110% effort at all costs, guilt, generous generous helpings of expectation and unwritten rules. It’s also full of unspoken anger, hidden irritations, feelings stuffed too deep. And topped off with a broken car top carrier, twice tinted windows, twice installed stereo and speakers, lost ear plugs and car chargers, misplaced flashdrives and prescription sports eyewear… and prescription sunglasses… stirred up vigorously with “you statements” and unexamined expectations, with self righteousness and inbred conceit.
My Compost pile stinks.
But every garden needs one. The secret is in how you allow your compost pile time to decompose, or if you hurry it along leaving half rotting unfinished bits of business laying around to attract bugs.
