=chapter one=

Composting as if It Mattered

make compost and lots of it, and not just because

its something hippie homesteaders are expected
to do, but because I get a kick out of doing it. No,
really. In my lifetime (so far, that is) Ive made easily
200 tons (181 tonnes) of compost. (Well, not easily;
it was a bodacious amount of work.) I still think its
more fun than a barrel of monkeys to take a mess of
useless stuff and turn it into a valuable product.
Compost is not my exclusive source of fertility; I
also use green manures on some areas, and last years
layer of decayed mulch is a significant source of nutrients; often it is enough by itself. However, the compost
is a biggie, especially on certain heavy-feeding crops.
It is crucial that I make enough compost and that the
quality be good. And making good-quality compost
requires more thought and effort than simply making
a pile and letting compost happen.
Ive known very few gardeners whose compost
making furnishes most of their crops nutrient needs.
(How far can grapefruit rinds and coffee grounds go
toward building up the soil?) Typically, gardeners
say that their compost is a source of humus, a source
of trace minerals, or a bioactivator. They rely on
hauled-in animal manure or purchased lime and
other mined minerals to do the heavy lifting. This is
where my garden-without-borders is different: My
compost, in conjunction with green manure rotations
and mulch, is intended to supply all the needs of my
crops and the soil in which they livethe humus, the

Figure 1.1. Truly sustainable fertility arises from the

very land it nourishes. This compost was made from
grass, leaves, crop residues, and kitchen garbage, all
sourced from the farm itself.

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Will Bonsalls Essential Guide to Radical, Self-Reliant Gardening

Figure 1.2. For easier access to my compost bins while I fill them, I remove the poles or planks from the front side.

NPK, the good cooties, and so forth. And the ingredients in my compost all come from my immediate
neighbourhood. I do not bring in significant amounts
of other stuff from afar. The main exception is leaves
from the nearby town of Farmington, which I could
as well collect from my own forest (and do), but
theirs go to the landfill anyway, and I like to prevent
that when I can.
Of course, many gardeners go beyond that and add
their yard wasteleaves and grass clippingswhich
is a huge improvement. (You can see how nicely
these things fit in with that eco-efficiency business
I was talking about earlier.) Even so, typical compost
systems are often wasteful and counterproductive.
The ingredients consist largely of weeds, crop residues, and kitchen wastes whose nutrients arise from
the garden or the marketplace. They get piled in a
nondescript heap in a corner of the yard. There are
no precise boundaries around the heap, so the stuff at
the edges kind of moulders into the ground (a net loss
to the garden system). Since stuff is added in dribs
and drabs, the pile never really heats up. The weed
seeds, the pest bug eggs, the disease spores are all
concentrated there where they can ripen, hatch, or
fester in rich luxuriance. Meanwhile the rains leach

much of the goodness into the soil beneath the pile,

the very place it is least needed. It puts me in mind of
Julius Caesar: The evil that men do lives after them,
the good is oft interred with their bones. Whats
really aggravating about this is that most of that lost
fertility originated in the garden.

A Multiple-Bin System
To avoid loss of nutrients from compost, I take great
pains to keep all the materials well contained within
a series of bins consisting of upright posts and parallel planks and poles. There are five bins in my system,
which requires 12 posts, each 10 feet (3.0 m) long, to
construct. The posts are set apart 8 feet (2.4 m) on
centres for the length of the bins, and 5 feet 4 inches
(1.6 m) between the near surfaces of opposite pairs.
Each pair is connected at the top by a spiked 2 4,
which prevents the posts tendency to spread when
the bins are filled.
The posts are sunk 3 feet (0.9 m) into the ground,
so the frost doesnt heave them about (if you live on
Oahu, that last line might be lost on you). Now, digging a straight 3-foot vertical hole in Industry, Maine,
is apt to involve as much quarrying as digging, so

Composting as if It Mattered

|| 13

Figure 1.3. The scorched part of this post will endure a very long time, even when buried.

once I place those posts Id appreciate it if I didnt

have to replace them for a while. I use cedar, which I
hew with either a broadaxe or a chain saw to 5 5
inches (12.7 12.7 cm) by 10 feet (3 m) long. Cedar is
rot-resistant, but not enough for me, so I scorch the
bottom few feet in my sap furnace to a depth of 18
inch (3.2 mm). (Guess; you cant measure it while
aflame.) I do this because I know that bits of charcoal
have been dug out of ruins thousands of years old, the
rings just as clear as the day they were cut. It will not
rot. Moreover, if the posts are green-cut or wet when
I scorch them, the heated resins will form creosote,
which is boiled into the interiorsomething like
pressure-treated telephone poles.
When I set the posts I dont fill around them with
dirt. Instead I use small stones (if you have a shortage, bring over your pickup) tamped in firmly. The
frost will not shift them in stone as much as it will
shift them in dirt, and the risk of decay is further
reduced if the underground portion is not in direct
contact with moist soil. By the way I make sure the
scorched part comes up at least to the surface, but
not too much above, lest I blacken my clothes every
time I rub past it. A reason why the posts are 10 feet
(3.0 m) long is so they end up 7 feet (2.1 m)

Figure 1.4. I dig holes 3 feet (0.9 m) deep to ensure

that posts dont frost heave. (Dont worry, after we
finished using son Fairfield as a yardstick, we took
him out of the hole before we set the post.)

Will Bonsalls Essential Guide to Radical, Self-Reliant Gardening

5' (1.5 m)

14 ||

8' (2.4 m)

Permanent planking

6" (15.2 cm)

Front rails insert in slots

Slotted dividers

134" (4.4 cm)

Back planks are

spiked to rear posts
Compost

Front
rails

Back
wall

8' (2.4 m)

Scorched post butt

Figure 1.5. These drawings show some of the construction details of my compost-bin system.

Stone backfill

Composting as if It Mattered

aboveground once theyre set. Thus the attached top

crosspieces dont get in my way, especially when Im
transferring stuff from one bin to the next.
The planks that form the back wall of each bin are
spiked to the inside of the back-wall posts. When the
bins are full the compost pushes the planks outward
against the posts. The front-wall planking slides into
slots, so I can remove any part of them for easier filling and emptying. I made the slots by nailing a 112
112-inch (3.8 3.8 cm) square onto the face side of the
5-inch (12.7 cm) wide beam, leaving a 2-inch (5.1 cm)
gap between them. The planks that form the interior
walls between bins also slide into slots. I use 2-inch
cedar planks, which I mill with my chain saw. Add up
the two layers of cedar planking and subtract them
from the 5-foot, 4-inch (1.6 m) gap between posts,
and that leaves an interior space 5 feet (1.5 m) wide.
By the way I dont use plank siding on the front of
the bins for the entire height of the pile. Above 3 feet
(0.9 m) poles that are 2 to 4 inches (5.110.2 cm) in
diameter serve just as well. I have acres of them and
theyre easily prepared. When they become too
decayed to serve the purpose, I simply put them
through the chipper/shredder and they join the next
bin (dont get sentimental, we all return to the soil
eventually). Why dont I use poles for the whole
thing? Kinsman Tom Vigue opines that their loose fit
allows too much drying of the outer several inches of
the heap and impedes its thorough heating, and I
have come to agree with him in part (more on this
topic later). The posts at each end of the system are
also planked across to form the end walls, which
helps prevent spreading, too.
Why did I choose 5 8 feet (1.5 2.4 m) as the
inside dimensions of my bins? Mostly because of
hearsay. I heard it said that a pile less than 4 feet (1.2
m) in any dimension would tend to dry out and not
have enough critical mass to generate enough heat (I
explain later why heat is so important). On the other
hand at least one dimension should be less than 5
feet or else air would fail to penetrate the heap and
it might become anaerobic (thats Latin for air failing to penetrate the heap, and its not good). Okay,
so that explains 5 feet wide, but why 8 feet long? I

|| 15

discovered, by measuring many batches of finished

compost, that they all averaged around 50 pounds
(22.7 kg) per cubic foot (0.03 cu m). That meant
that a 5 8-foot binan area of 40 square feet (3.7
sq m)would hold 1 ton (907 kg) for every foot (0.3
m) of depth. How convenient to calculate my supply
at a glance! Moreover, theres the matter of turning
the pile with a compost fork: How far did I wish to
fling that stuff? Experience suggested 8 feet for a
maximum. If you cannot assemble enough material
to fill such a large bin in a reasonable time, you can
build it smaller, but no less than 4 4 4 feet (1.2
1.2 1.2 m) to ensure critical mass for proper heating.
My original system included a crude roof to shed
excess rain, but it seemed those huge piles were
always cooking themselves dry, at least in the early
two stagesthey needed more water, never less.
When I eventually rebuilt the system, I didnt bother
to include roofs. Having said that, there might be a
real advantage to some kind of protection in the finished stage, when there are more soluble nutrients
and no heat is being generated. Someone suggested
I use plastic tarps, which would also prevent blown
dandelion or bird-dropped seeds from landing on the
pile. Perhaps, but Im trying to use less plastic (I call it
ticky-tacky, from the classic Malvina Reynolds song),
not more. Anyway, when my compost is finished Im
usually quick to spread itorganics arent meant to
sit around.

Compost Ingredients
So once its built what do I put into this system? The
simple answer is: whatever I have and in whatever
proportion I have it. Obviously not animal manure.
Well, there will be plenty of worm poop and some
droppings from the wild birds that eat them, but no
domestic livestock manure. Since Im not burdening
myself or my land with domestic critters, why should
I require it of others or their land? Anyway, Im not
big on moving lots of stuff aroundeco-efficiency
implies economy of energy as well as economical
land use. Of course we are animals ourselves, and
I certainly make use of our privy cleanings (night

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Will Bonsalls Essential Guide to Radical, Self-Reliant Gardening

Figure 1.6. Shredding leaves before composting

allows me to spread thicker layers without their
wadding up.

soil is the euphemism used by folks who dont like

to call something what it is), but I dont use these in
the general compost system Im describing here. The
topic is discussed later in this chapter.
I use all the usual crop residues and weeds from
the garden; actually Im embarrassed when weeds
constitute a significant part of the pile, as it reflects
poorly on my weed management ability. What I do
appreciate about the weeds is the soil clinging to
their roots, although I try to shake most of it off in the
garden where it lives. A certain amount of soil in the
pile is very desirable, much like the salt in a casserole, and since none of the other ingredients contain
much of it, when I dont have enough weeds I go dig
up a few bucketfuls of dirt from the most organically
sterile area I can find (its the minerals in the dirt Im
after; the rest of the pile is all about organic matter).

A visitor once commented with some hubris that

she no longer wasted energy making compost; she
just let everything rot where it lay in the garden. I
didnt venture to comment, as she clearly knew all she
needed to know, but I continue to make compost nevertheless, thank you. Most of my compost material
comes from outside the garden, and thus the compost
I make provides a net gain in the gardens fertility, not
merely shuffling around whats already there. But I
should note, even that shuffling process is extremely
important: Those old cabbage leaves and cornstalks,
tomato vines and carrot tops, are often full of pest
eggs, borers, blight spores, septoria, anthracnose, and
so on, all of which may fester there on the soil surface,
waiting to attack next years crop. Keep in mind that
nearly all of our crop species are not native, and many
of their pests are not found in the surrounding fields
and forests, but only in our gardens. In a properly
made compost heap, nearly all those pests and diseases will be destroyed by the heat generated by via
aerobic fermentation (which does not occur in crop
residues simply left lying in the garden), plus the
myriad biologies that accompany accelerated decay.
The early stages of composting are totally dominated by thermophilic (heat-loving) bacteria, which
cause most other bacteria, plus fungi and earthworms, to either leave the pile, go dormant, or die.
Only after the pile cooks do the other decomposing
agents go to work. Adding them to the pile before the
fever has passed would be futile.
That being said, I dont consider garden residues
a mainstay of the heapafter all these plants are
not very eco-efficient and their fertility arose from
the garden in the first place. The heavy lifters in my
pile, the stuff which brings fertility into the garden
from outside, are the grass and tree leaves and ramial
chips. Ramial chips is another name for small brush
(under 3 inches, or 7.6 cm) which has been put
through a chipper/shredder. It is distinct from trunk
wood, which is mainly cellulose. For more details
about how to make and use ramial, see the section
Ramial Research in chapter 3.
As I explained before these are the ingredients
that make the overall system eco-efficientmake it

Composting as if It Mattered

worksince they build up long-term humus with a

much smaller input of earth-blessing (space, nutrients, water, air, sunshine, et cetera). They do require
something, of coursein particular, nitrogen.
Although I put all my garden residues and weeds
through the compost system, thats not always true
of the grass and especially of the leaves and chips. As
I said, theyre the mainstay of the heapbut I also
use major quantities as mulch and in other ways (and
thats described later in the book).
Someone asked me once, in a theoretical vein I
assume, whether I would use deer droppings in my
compost piles if I chanced upon some in my woods.
For one thing, since Ive never known deer to poop
in piles of any consequence, the time spent chasing
around trying to gather it up would be much more
profitably used mowing grass and shredding leaves.
Moreover, Im not sure how valuable a manure
derived mainly from spruce and fir browse would be
for cultivated crops. In fact the deer do occasionally
loiter around my bins, nibbling on cider pomace that
gets spilled there. If a deer were to inadvertently
drop a few doe-berries in the pile, would I discard
the whole batch as non-veganic? No, I think not.
Ideally I build a new compost pile every three or
four weeks during the season (April through
November), and one challenge is to have enough
material at hand to build a complete 5 8 4-foot
(1.5 2.4 1.2 m) pile within a few days so that it will
heat up thoroughly and uniformly. Again, Im counting on the heat generated by the pile to: kill pest
eggs, destroy weed seeds, and cook any disease
spores, plus commence the breakdown of fibrous
materials. The materials in a compost heap built up
over time do also break downslow fungal activity
would be the driving forcebut without the initial
bacterial fever, there would be too little heat to wipe
out the baddies.
A second challenge is to have a reasonably consistent balance of ingredients. Theres plenty of leeway
here, but I would prefer that the summer piles not be
only grass, autumn only leaves, and spring only leftover kitchen garbage. Therefore I stockpile certain
materials: hay, leaves, and kitchen garbage.

|| 17

Figure 1.7. Apprentice Arica is mowing this ragweed

for the compost pile! Were counting on the intense
heat and bioactivity to destroy the ripening seed.

I put lots of fresh-cut grass directly into summer

compost piles, but I make plenty into hay for autumn
and spring piles. By hay I do not mean that I carefully cure and bale it for long storage as a dairyman
does. Rather, I let it dry enough before raking so that
it will not be fire-fanged and half rotten before I compost it. I would mention that my concept of grass or
hay is much broader than a dairymans. When fed
to big ungulates grass should be mainly grass with
some succulent legumes, as in a timothy-clover mix.
My bacteria and earthworms are not so finicky, so if
my pasture contains oodles of buttercups and milkweed and goldenrod, so much the better, as long as its
oodles. I want a dense yield of not-too-woody biomass;
eco-efficiency is more sought after than digestibility.
Tree leaves especially tend to come all at once
Octoberso I try to collect them soon after they

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Will Bonsalls Essential Guide to Radical, Self-Reliant Gardening

drop, shred them while crispy dry, and store them,

mostly in a deep 8 10-foot (2.4 3.0 m) rain-proof
bin, where I can access them at any time of year.
Likewise during the winter we generate many
buckets of kitchen garbage, with no place to put it.
The tight-lidded buckets accumulate outside until
snow-go, at which time I can start the seasons first
pile using this stored garbage, stored leaf shreds, and
stored hay.

Building a Compost Pile

Now that we have an ingredients list lets consider
how to build a pile. Its important to keep in mind
that the main direction fertility moves in a compost
pile is down. There may be upward loss through
volatilization, especially of ammonia compounds,
but most nutrients are held in a water-based solution
that is susceptible to gravity. This is even more true
if we add enough water to keep the pile cooking
the biological fires are stoked, not quenched, by
additional water. Therefore there is some risk that
soluble goodies in the bottom layers may be leached
into the soil beneath, and thats about as helpful as
a screen door in a submarine. I minimize this by
starting a new pile with a few layers of highly absorbent, high-carbon materials, stuff that will actually
benefit from the nitrogen-laden leachate from above.
A typical sequence is ramial chips followed by spoilhay (thats the trashy stuff that was mown too late or
let lie too long), then ramial chips again or shredded
leaves, and again spoil-hay, repeated three times for
a total of six bedding layers.
By the way, when I say a layer of hay, Im thinking of a jumbo-sized wheelbarrow as full as I can pack
it and pile it. When I say a layer of shredded leaves,
Im talking about that wheelbarrow filled to the brim
and mounded, or about 25 or 30 gallons (94.6113.6 l).
The hay will pile higher than the leaves, but it will also
settle more in the heap, so theyre probably roughly
comparable. When I say a layer of kitchen garbage,
I picture from two to four 5-gallon (18.9 l) bucketfuls.
Lacking spoil-hay I might simply alternate ramial
with leaves, but I really prefer to alternate forest

stuff with pasture stuff. In fact I like to follow

that general pattern throughout the heap-building,
as it better reflects the mutual role of those two
ecosystems in feeding me. As a rule the forest stuff is
high-carbon and will be acted upon slowly by fungal
agents; the pasture stuff is higher in nitrogen, which
fosters feverish bacterial growth. Id hate to live in
a world without either one; apparently my compost
heap and the crops it nourishes feel the same way.
After the initial bedding layers I switch to something richermaybe clover or comfrey or kitchen
garbagebut henceforth I add whatever I have, trying to alternate wet/dry, nitrogen/carbon, mineral/
organic. I want to end up with a pile as diverse and
self-complementary as possible.
I should emphasize the importance of using a
good proportion of dry trashy stuff to rich succulent
matter, like at least three to one. The usual concern is
that too much high-carbon material might moulder
along without enough nitrogen (remember, thats
hearsay) to spark the bacterial heat. A reasonable
concern, although a little nitrogen goes a long way,
but people tend to ignore the opposite extreme: a high
nitrogen-to-carbon ratio will make a pile heat up fine
and in fact will drive off the surplus nitrogen in the
form of ammonia and methane. That wastes fertility
while filling up the atmosphere with ozone-destroying gases. People fret altogether too much about
nitrogen in the soil and not enough about humus, just
as they overrate protein in the diet while ignoring
fibre. Either produces a toxemia of the system.
As the pile grows, usually over a period of several
days, I insert poles into the slotted front so I can heap
it ever higher. If I sense that my ingredients are all
on the dry side, I add a few bucketfuls of water as
I go along, rather than relying on a massive soaking
at the end, which may not penetrate evenly. I have
usually not paid much attention to aerating the piles;
indeed, in the first stage there is sometimes a concern about them being too fluffy with all that coarse
dry stuff. But after watering the air pockets settle
out and the heap becomes much denser. Too dense?
Cousin Tom practises a variant of the traditional
Indore method of composting. (The Indore method

Composting as if It Mattered

incorporates poles laid sideways across one or more

layers. As a pile is built the poles are pulled out, leaving passageways for air.) Tom creates two or three
chimneys into the core of a pile by bundling several
sticks together (a bit of crookedness creates more air
passageway; thats good) and placing them upright
as the pile builds. Im uncertain whether its worth
it: That new internal exposure allows moisture and
heat to escape, whereas adequate oxygen has never
seemed to be a problem for me. Still, Tom knows a
good thing.
Eventually my heap reaches a height of 6 or 7 feet
(1.82.1 m), and I can barely reach up to pile more
stuff on. But the heap will soon shrink down to half
that height, mainly due to air spaces settling out.
One last step before I call it complete: I fork a last
extra-big layer of hay on top and dump on 50 gallons

Skip the Lime

Despite the need for minerals in a compost
pile, I never add lime (which I dont have in
my system anyway) or wood ash (though I
have plenty of that). In the course of all its
chemical permutations, the pile goes through
both acidic and alkaline extremes, and I dont
wish to have such a strong base (alkali) interfere with any of that. Moreover I intend to use
my compost on any and all crops, including
somelike potatoesthat might take offence
at the alkali. Not to worry, though: I have
other ways of using wood ash, as described in
chapter 4.

Figure 1.8. This 4-ton (3.6 tonne) pile is completely built and awaits the final watering and cap layer of soil.

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Will Bonsalls Essential Guide to Radical, Self-Reliant Gardening

(189.2 l) of water. I used to haul that in buckets from a

nearby pond, but now I have a hose from an irrigation
tank on the hill, lazy me. Lastly, I cap it all off with a
few bucketfuls of sifted (pebble-free) soil for weight
and moisture retention and, of course, minerals.

The Heap in Action

Soon after Ive finished the heap, then watered and
capped it, it begins to heat up in a very big way. You
probably know that putting damp hay bales into a
hayloft can set the barn afire. The same process is
at work in a compost pile, but since the heap is not
tightly enclosed (as in a stuffy hayloft), the heat can
dissipate without combusting. If a pile doesnt heat
up, the probable cause is lack of moisture. Without
moisture the bacteria that generate the heat just
cant get started.
One year we had an apprentice who made a scientific study of our process: He bored a hole in the
end of a 4-foot (1.2 m) 2 2-inch (5.1 5.1 cm) cedar
square and inserted a cooking thermometer. Every
morning he took an iron pry bar and bored a hole
into the heap, inserting the thermometer into the
centre. Using graph paper he kept a fever chart of
every pile we made that summer. It was remarkable
how similar the lines were, given the varied content
and timing of each pile. The temperature of every
pile spiked within the first three days, from ambient
to 162F (72.2C), then slowly it would slide back
to around 140F (60.0C) over a week or so, then it
would plummet to something under 100F (37.8C).
At that point (always on Day 19) it would nearly level
off and presumably might take weeks to reach ambience, so great is the insulating power of compost.
From the data we concluded that Day 19 days
was a good time to turn a heap into the next bin
(usually we waited more like three weeks, to make
sure). Turning the heap is important for several
reasons, and I explain that below. Its okay to wait
longer than three weeks, but from the time a pile
cools times a-wastin, and we need that bin free to
start another pile. For this reason I rarely start the
first pile of the season in Bin #1 of my five bins. As

soon as it is capped, I must wait 19 days for that bin

to be freed up to start a new heap, and meanwhile
grass and other ingredients are pouring in. If I start
by building a pile at Bin #1, then for the next 19 days
I am at a standstill, whereas if I start in Bin #2 or
even #3 (out of five, remember), there is still room
for everything to be turned at least twice. More
important, as soon as the first pile (in #2, say) is
built, I can immediately commence a new pile (in
#1), delaying the holdup until perhaps there is a lull
in the inflow of ingredients. This all may be of little
concern to the backyard gardener who may be building only one heap for the whole season, but since I
am typically generating between 12 and 20 tons (10.9
and 18.1 tonnes) of finished compost per year, I need
to keep things moving. This is not a salad garden.
Of course you can be much more casual about these
matters when your food (and the fertility to produce
it) comes from somewhere else.
To turn a pile I use a five-tined compost fork (Im
shocked to discover that my hardware store actually
labels them thus, no longer as manure forksa sign
of whos purchasing them?). It used to take me about
15 minutes to throw 1 ton (0.9 tonne) from one bin
to the next, a forkful at a time. Now that Im grown
older it usually takes me a good 20 minutes or an
hour for the whole heap. Its not that Im feebler; I
just like to stop more often to contemplate how much
fun Im having.
There are several reasons for this turning, the
main one being that the material on the top and sides
of the heap was not wholly involved in the first round
of heating to 162F (72.2C). The turning will incorporate all this stuff and there will be a second fever,
though not as long or intense. However, that second
heating is important to assure that everything is
properly cooked. But is it indeed properly cooked?
Cousin Tom has an interesting take on this: He thinks
that covering the top and sides more tightly, to retain
moisture and heat, would obviate the need for turning. Furthermore, he makes the excellent point that if
the turning is supposed to leave the remaining ingredients cooked, it is of dubious value, since the
secondary heating is definitely tamer and may be

Composting as if It Mattered

Figure 1.9. Here the system is all filled up; we must wait three weeks before a bin will open up for starting a
new pile.

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Will Bonsalls Essential Guide to Radical, Self-Reliant Gardening

inadequate to kill some of the things we need killed.

Whether or not that is true I have another compelling reason for turning: to create a more uniform
product. Turning mixes all those layers while breaking up clumps of coarse junk so the agents of decay
can better access it. That alone justifies the effort in
my eyes.
If I turn a bin promptly every three weeks for a
maximum of three times (or four stages), then the
whole process takes twelve weeks, or less than three
months, from beginning to end. Thus, a pile built in
early June will be ready to apply in early September.
Three months from beginning to end does not of
course mean that a pile commenced in late November
will be finished in late February (except perhaps on
Oahu). Obviously composting activity does not continue unabated through freezing weather, but neither
does it come to a complete halt. I have commenced
heaps in mid-December and had them seethe on into
the New Year, melting the snow that fell on them to
further water their interiors. This happens because
even a bit of thawed stuff at the core will generate
its mite of heat, which would be snuffed out by the
surrounding chill were it not for the high insulating
value of compost. Instead that little locus of living
warmth thaws its surroundings a bit, generating yet
a little more heat, and so forth until the whole heap
is a steaming inferno. At some point, however, this
process must succumb to the cold, at least where I
live. Depending on the timing, this halt may come
before the living heat can kindle; if a bunch of frozen
materials are assembled in mid-January, it may be
impossible for any microbial spark to catch, as even
the bacteria drift into the suspended animation that
is a northern winter. If the initial fermentation is able
to begin and sustain itself through the first stage,
once that cycle has cooled off, then it must fall into
the icy grip of winter and be locked at that stage, even
though there is lots more decaying to do.
Just as that insulating inertia keeps the pile
cooking despite its bleak environs, that same inertia
grasps the pile in its new permutation: a 3-ton (2.7
tonne) organic Popsicle. Nor will it hasten to relent,
even when the sun is climbing and the robins are

back. The ground has thawed enough so that plenty

of earthworms are there for those robins, yet in the
compost bins is a great gelid mass; it has made a contract with nature from which it is not easily released.
If Im in no rush, theres no problem. But if Im needing that bin free to build a new heap (yes, Ive started
piles in mid-April), or if that batch is finished and I
want to apply it to early-spring beds, I speed things
up by busting the stuff out with a maul or dull axe
and spreading the chunks where I want them, where
the sun and rain will thaw them much more quickly.
Or I may scrape off the thawed layer on the top and
sides, exposing the core to much quicker thawing.
Otherwise I just wait.

Using Compost
Ultimately, whether sooner or later, despite your
clever ploys and your stupid blunders, you will end
up with compost. Its really quite hard to prevent; its
just a question of how long it takes and how valuable
is the finished product.
So then, what do you do with it? The living community within it will continue feeding upon itself, mould
becoming earthworms, centipedes becoming bacteria
(and ultimately vice versa); life and death continue,
decay marches on. Not, however, without a net loss of
energy at each stage. If you added no fresh matter, I
suppose the decomposition theoretically would result
in ash, the mineral residue from which all the organic
energy has been wrung out. For that reason if no other,
compost should be put to work in the soil as soon as
it reaches a finished condition (obviously it never
reaches a finished conditionnor do webut when
the necessary biology has rendered it useful for cultivated plants). I call it finished when it is broken down
into uniformly small particles that are unidentifiable.
An obvious way to use compost is to incorporate it
into the soil shortly before sowing the crop that is to
benefit from it. Further decomposition should occur
in the soil, where the crop plant rootlets are prepared
to take up the nutrients as they become available.
For example, if I start compost in June and its
ready in early September, there is usually an open

Composting as if It Mattered

space where Ive removed an early crop and another

late crop is about to replace it. Thats a fine time
and place to spread the new compost. But if that
late-succession crop is to be a green manure, then
the compost might be more prudently used elsewhere, or it might be spread in late fall for a spring
crop. An advantage of this is that if the compost does
contain some viable weed seeds, say due to inadequate heating, then they may sprout and get done in
by late tilling or by winter. Again, I dont like to have
finished compost sitting around when it could be in
or on the soil, powering a community of microbes
whose services will be wanted anon.
My favourite way to incorporate compost is with
a wheel hoe, using the crossbar or stirrup attachment, although the tines could also do a good job.
This stirring inas opposed to turning in (as with a
plough)has the advantage of keeping the organic
matter in the top few inches, rather than burying it
away from the life-giving air.
You can also use finished compost without incorporating it, but rather spreading it on the surface
and letting earthworms and the rain incorporate it.
An advantage of this is that it also serves as a mulch,
protecting the soil surface from the elements. Of
course, what then protects the compost from the elements? I believe it largely protects itself by trapping
the nutrients until they can be moved downward
(worms, rainwater, et cetera) and appropriated by
crop plant roots. A possible disadvantage is that the
more volatile nutrients (like ammonia) may evaporate, especially in direct sunlight. I usually avoid this
by immediately adding a thin mulch of shredded
leaves. Thus the first mulch is more for fertility; the
second more for protection.
This double mulching is especially useful when
I want to use unfinished compost: stuff that has
been thoroughly heated by two cycles in the bins,
yet still contains plenty of recognizable material.
Of course many crops resent growing in such crude
stuffwouldnt you?but at least one crop loves it:
tomatoes. Those semi-weeds revel at having their feet
in near-garbage and will be disgustingly healthy, provided the compost contains no diseased tomato plants

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from last year. Another crop that seems to appreciate

this rude treatment is squash (see the Cucurbita pepo
section in chapter 8), but not cukes or melons, which
take themselves far too seriously. Ever notice which
plants grow happily right in raw compost heaps? Certainly none that has any sense of decorum.
Take care if you decide to use finished compost to
topdress crops that are already up and growing. At
best compost may spatter all over the plants to their
detriment (lettuce and broccoli?forget it); at worst,
young plants may get buried or broken over.
I never make enough compost to adequately
fertilize all my crops, but fortunately I dont need

Figure 1.10. Three loads of compost per bed is ample

even for the heavy feeders. Thats about 900 pounds
(408.2 kg) per 180 square feet (16.7 sq m). Photograph
courtesy of Scott Perry

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Will Bonsalls Essential Guide to Radical, Self-Reliant Gardening

to. Areas that were last in a green-manure rotation

should need none, nor crops following a crop companion that included a living mulch (see chapter 2
for more on living mulches). Most of mine goes on
the intensively spaced veggie crops. When a legume
is one of the companions, I use much less compost,
relying on it more for humus than for specific
nutrients. Im far more generous with members of
the cabbage family, which are overdomesticated
shallow-rooted crops requiring spoon-feedingif
only I didnt love them so much.
Although I make all the compost I can, and of the
best quality I can manage, I do not rely on that alone
for my gardens fertility. I also use green manures,
mulches, and living mulches, and thats the subject
of the next chapter. But theres one more material to
discuss before leaving the subject of composting, and
thats humanure.

Composting Humanure
One can hardly discuss long-term sustainable soil
fertility without considering the waste products of
our own bodies. If we consume the products of our
soil and fail to return our urine and feces to that soil,
then we become a form of erosion, a vehicle for the
unsustainable removal of vital nutrients from our
food system. Many people are repelled at the thought
of personally recycling their own bodily wastes; we
are so used to dropping it in 3 gallons (11.4 l) of potable
water and flushing that water off to Neverland where
someone else deals with it. We neither know nor care
what they do with itout of sight, out of mind. Does
it get treated only to take up less space in the landfill
or to fertilize a distant golf course? What is certain is
that it is lost forever from the land that produced it.
The loss might seem less significant because the
volume is very small compared with the huge amounts
of other stuff (grass, leaves, and so on) used to build
the soil; however, we mustnt overlook that its fertility
is very dense, like any other manure. Humans eat a
rich and varied diet, far more so than any livestock,
and our digestive systems are comparatively inefficient at absorbing and utilizing all that goodness.

This is reflected in the intense richness and smell of

our wastes, even our sweat. The more our offal smells
awful, the more fertility it contains. If we aspire to
a sustainable food system, we must recognize that
humanure is not a four-letter word, that our filth is
a resource. We cannot have sustainability without
responsibility; it all has to come home and stay there.
Having said all that, we must acknowledge that
there is a very good reason for feeling disgust at our
bodily wastes: Not only are they nasty, they are hazardous. You do not simply spread them on the land
and plant crops there; that is a sure recipe for disease.
They must first be properly composted and proper
hygiene practised by the compost maker.
Now I must distinguish between feces and urine.
Urine is generally not pathogenic; its main issue is the
awful smell of ammonia formed by bacterial action
on ureanot particularly harmful but certainly
obnoxious. Urine can be spread on the soil without
health risks. If it is spread just before or during a
rain and not too much in one place, the odour will
immediately disappear. Of course collecting pee
separately from poo is easier for people who have a Y
chromosome and thus are equipped to direct it more
accurately. The main advantage of segregating urine
is to keep the feces drier and needing less absorbent
bedding. Also, segregated urine can be used directly
without composting. Otherwise there is no problem
with them remaining together. In dry weather urine
can be stockpiled in tight-lidded plastic buckets.
I should mention that urine must not be applied
directly to growing plants (even if theyre not for food),
else it may burn the foliage. It is best to spread pee on
the ground near growing plants. Although there are
some specieslike corn, sunflowers, squash, leeks,
and garlicthat delight in such insult, others (potatoes, most root crops, and legumes) may react badly to
it. Potatoes may grow knobby and develop scab, carrots will be less sweet and not store as well, legumes
will find their ability to fix nitrogen compromised.
For crops like zucchini and chard where the goal
is prolonged production, a midseason boost of urine
can be very useful; for crops like winter squash a late
boost of nitrogen (from urine or any source) may be

Composting as if It Mattered

Figure 1.11. This well-maintained privy is comfortable, weather-proof, and odour-free.

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Will Bonsalls Essential Guide to Radical, Self-Reliant Gardening

Figure 1.12. The hatch is flipped open to empty the

catchment chamber twice each year.

counterproductive, favouring more vine and foliage

growth when we want the plants to focus on ripening
their fruit.
Feces requires an altogether different treatment;
it is full of coliform bacteria (E. coli) whose very
purpose in life (though perhaps they dont see it that
way) is breaking down our yuckiness and converting
it to soil-building humus. It is really very thoughtful
of them. Still, through no malice on their part, they
pose a grave health risk to us. Although they live in
our colons, our bodies have developed a system to
ensure that they only move downward, never backwards into our upper digestive tracts. If a stray E. coli
bacterium finds its way into the top of the system
(say, if we eat contaminated food), it can really wreak
havoc, even to the point of death. We shouldnt resent
E. coli being what it is, but if we wish to avoid the
collywobbles or worse, we must keep it in its place.

I must point out that everything I am suggesting is

only relevant if you live in the country, with a bit of
distance between yourself and neighbours. Whether
you use an outdoor privy or a composting toilet, you
will raise some eyebrows, especially if at certain
moments your place has a certain ambience that wafts
downbreeze. However lovable and environmentally
aware your neighbours may be, they may come to find
you a bit tedious, even if your system is odourless all
but a few hours of the year. I always empty the privy
(twice a year) when everyone is away and the breeze is
right, followed by a bath in the farm pond. By the time
folks return one would never suspect there was ever
an unseemly whiff on the place. Keep in mind that
however sanitary your operation, some neighbours
will be grossed out by the mere knowledge that doodoo is being processed next door (of course they dont
think twice about whoever is experiencing their own).
Our humanure composting system is completely
separate from our regular compost system, and thats
critical. Do not add human manure to a compost
pilealways compost it separately. Our own humanure system begins with our privy.
It is a 5 7-foot (1.5 2.1 m) two-room building
about 150 feet (45.7 m) from the house. It sits atop a
fly-proof catchment chamber, basically a mini cellar.
I began by pouring a 4-inch (10.2 cm) thick concrete
slab (with rebar and wire embedded for crack prevention) on a 1-foot (0.3 m) deep layer of small stones
(the stone layer prevents frost heave). On three sides
of the pad I laid a 2-foot (0.6 m) high wall of 8 8
16-inch (20.3 20.3 40.6 cm) cement blocks, with
one long side (downhill) left open. Upon the wall I
laid 6 6-inch (15.2 15.2 cm) cedar sills and the
building itself. Inside the building its a typical
two-compartment privy, and materials simply fall
into the chamber below.
On the open downhill side of the 2-foot (0.6 m)
deep chamber, I installed a heavy, hinged hatch (see
figure 1.12). I prop boulders against it to hold it tightly
closed against vermin. Likewise, both seat covers are
hinged and close tightly to exclude pests.
Each compartment has a bucket of shredded
leaves for throwing down the hole after each use. An

Composting as if It Mattered

overhead space holds several feed bags of packed leaf

shredsI dont intend to run out. Even fastidious
guests have commented on the lack of odour, especially compared with public privies (campgrounds,
say) with their ammonia-generating chemicals and
no bedding at all. We never throw ashes onto our
humanure, which only generates more ammonia. For
years we used hardwood sawdust bedding, but
shredded leaves are more effective odour quenchers
and produce higher-quality fertilizer (if you never
viewed your droppings in terms of quality, you need
to rethink your self-image). With the leaves, unlike
sawdust, Im never concerned about using too much,
as even straight leaves would be a valuable soil

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amendment. This ensures not only that no odours

will be emitted, but also that there will be no seepage
out the back side of the chamber. That is also an
advantage to collecting as much as possible of the
urine separately, even though it may all end up in the
same place.
Twice a year, spring and fall, I shovel out the
catchment chamber and wheelbarrow the contents,
typically six to eight large wheelbarrow loads each
time, to a nearby double-bin compost system used
exclusively for humanure compost (see figure 1.13),
where I empty it onto a base layer of yet more
shredded leaves. When the pile is finished I cover it
thoroughly with another layer of leaf shreds, so that

Figure 1.13. The compost on the left will soon be emptied into the right side and replaced by the latest privy
cleanings. Shredded leaves keep odour in and flies out. It helps neighbourly relations that this humanure heap
is as odour-free in reality as it is in the picture.

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Will Bonsalls Essential Guide to Radical, Self-Reliant Gardening

Figure 1.14. The fertility for this plot, which will soon
be planted to corn, didnt have to travel far.

none of the humanure is exposed to view or, more

important, to flies. If the final layer of shredded
leaves is not enough to thwart flies, a light sprinkling
of screened soil will be very effective. After about
six months that pile is turned into the adjoining bin
to make space for the next privy cleaning; again it
is covered with shredded leaves. At the end of the
process12 months after emptying the privythis
twice-turned material is hardly recognizable as having any fecal origin. Notwithstanding all the leaves it
is a very rich material, richer than the best livestock
manure and, thanks partly to the leaves, having a
highly diverse mineral content. It is ready to use.

While properly composted humanure is safe to

use on anything, I do not assume that Ive done
everything perfectly, and therefore I apply it only to
appropriate crops. This makes sense anyway; I end
up with four or five barrows full for the year, which
doesnt go very far in the general garden. Many crops
dont need it and indeed would be better without
anything so rich. However, two cropscorn and
squashdo not understand the concept of too rich;
those gluttons will welcome all they can get and
make good use of it. Furthermore the amount of
humanure compost we regenerate yearly is just about
right to satisfy the needs of those particular crops.
How elegant. It helps that they are both large-seeded
crops, for which I can make a wide, deep furrow, fill
it with the compost, sprinkle ashes on top, and drop
on the seed on that before covering with soil.
It may leave a slight ridge, which is ideal, but the
humanure is well buried, so even if any parts are
less than perfectly cured, it will not pose a health
hazard. When the crop is hilled up in early July, it
will be further buried, and when the land is next
tillednext spring at the very earliest, maybe the end
of the next seasonit will be totally part of the soil,
and any remaining E. coli will have been completely
neutralized by the soil community.
Someone once suggested that the manure produced by one human would be adequate to grow
all the food for that one person. That is ludicrous;
there are no perpetual-energy systems, certainly not
with human animals as part of them. In fact I always
point out that humanure, like any animal manure, is
a relatively insignificant piece of the overall fertility
picture, a drop in the bucket, if youll pardon the
expression. On the other hand it is far too valuable,
far too rich a resource to waste, especially since
wasting involves robbing one part of the world while
polluting another.