Liberation from Winter Compost

Today, my friend Carrie came over. Today, I stopped winter composting. First I bought a car. Then, I stopped recycling plastic. Now this.

Carrie is as eco friendly as the next gal. Actually, she is likely MORE eco-friendly than most. But today, after declaring her “Winter Composting MUST End” proclamation, she marched into my kitchen, grabbed a biodegradable tall kitchen bag from under the sink and just tossed the compost in the bag.

Let’s face it. Everybody in the cold weather states has frozen compost. All the bins are full and frozen. When someone heads out there with yet another squash carcass, shouts from the brussel sprout stalks that we tried to compost in November are heard by the entire neighborhood. “No room at the inn, buddy!”

So, I’m done. Let’s ignore the fact that my husband pretends he is in charge of it. I’m sick of it. It piles up on the counter. There is overflow compost outside the back door.

I am enslaved by compost, no more.

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One response to “Liberation from Winter Compost

  1. OMG. We’re sharing a life (minus the kids and such). We have THREE compost bins, and they all always get full, and Betsy is In Charge of the Compost, but there always comes a point where the PCAs come to me as a posse and say, “There’s no room in any of the bins anymore!”
    I’m half-inclined to go take a picture of the compost bins under our four feet of snow that’s fallen in the last two weeks, but that would require me to get out of bed, so I won’t.
    I grew up composting, and Betsy has become a die-hard sustainability hound, so I will compost till my dying day, I suspect, but a tiny little rebellious part of me has deep envy for you, now.

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