Turning bay two, and what worms taught me
I opened the middle compost bay this weekend for the first time since autumn. Six months of kitchen scraps, spent plants and torn-up cardboard had turned into something dark, crumbly and faintly sweet-smelling — soil, basically, made out of rubbish.
How the three bays work
It's a simple cycle. One bay I'm actively filling, one is left to break down, and one holds finished compost ready to spread. When the full bay is turned into the next along, it gets the air it needs and heats up again, and I start filling the empty one. Nothing leaves the plot; it just keeps moving along the row.
The smell is the best gauge of how it's going. Sweet and earthy means it's working. Sour or sharp means too much wet green and not enough brown — a few handfuls of shredded cardboard usually puts it right.
The rough recipe
Roughly equal parts "green" (peelings, fresh weeds, grass) and "brown" (cardboard, dried stems, autumn leaves), kept about as damp as a wrung-out cloth. Turn it when you remember; the worms do the rest.
I barrowed the finished bay straight onto the beds as a mulch. No digging it in — I just lay it on top and let the worms pull it down. Which leads neatly to the other thing I've changed this year.