Why I like living in the country

26 January 2008

Having come up with a pretty good mulch of leaves, pumpkin and coffee grounds in just a couple of months, I’m starting up another little compost bin to collect good stuff for my patch. There are lots of orchards around here and I thought I might be able to stealthily pick up a bag of rotting apples without getting shot by a ruddy-cheeked farmer wiedling a blunderbuss.

I set out on my bike, carrying a plastic bag and hand trowel with me. As I approached the orchards I passed three horse riders and their steeds, the thought passing through my mind as I pedalled breathlessly past them: I really hope that those horses don’t suddenly rear up and trample me to death.

Through the bare hedgerows I could see that nothing much remained on the ground; any windfalls had long since rotted away or been cleared. I continued up the lane and skirted around a pile of horse manure in the road. Now that would be good stuff for the garden, I thought. Onwards a bit further and at the gateway to the orchard I confirmed that there was nothing to pilfer. My thoughts returned to the manure. Should I?

I turned my plastic bag inside out to use as a scoop and cycled back the way I came. Parking my bike on the verge I went back to scoop up what I could. Mmm, still warm. I had to stop halfway through to step back onto the verge to let a car pass. Pressed back into the hedgerow I did my best not to look like someone who had been caught picking up poo.

Walking back to my bike I decided, no, sod it, let’s do this properly. I grabbed the trowel and went back to get the rest. I had to stop shovelling a few times to let cars pass, but I no longer cared how strange I looked. After all, my vegetables are going to be so much bigger than those of the people driving past wondering at the girl standing next to the bare remains of a pile of horse droppings, holding what looks like a suspiciously heavy bag.

And the bonus compost item? On the way back home I picked up a big piece of banana that someone had dropped on the pavement. I know how to party.

Posted in: garden

Comments

One Response to “Why I like living in the country”

dreamdust » I like 25 gallon butts and I cannot lie
22nd February 2008 @ 7:02 pm

[...] a black rubbish sack full of decomposing leaves to a little silver plastic bin into which I put my prized horse poo, moss and leave and what not. However that bin was soon full and I began to set my sights on a [...]