This is what happens when you’re middle-aged: you become really excited about composting and community gardens.
I’ve actually been fired up about composting for the past few years. We started pre-Covid in Brooklyn. And I’m so happy to see the city resumed food scrap pick-up this spring and has set ambitious goals for all five boroughs.
Our first summer here, I bought a tumbler for our back yard. After a couple months of throwing food scraps in, I realized we needed another. All those avocado peels, corn cobs, coffee grounds and crusty bits weren’t decomposing into a beautiful rich soil quite as quickly as I hoped. But even with two tumblers, my composting skills have not been super great. But I keep at it. Even if we’re not yet creating successful compost, we’re at least not sending food to the landfill.
In the meantime, our town has finally taken the initiative and launched a food scraps collection pilot program. Hallelujah. Two weeks in, I’m already stoked about the relative ease and convenience. They collect a shit ton every week, so my tumblers can catch up, I can reset my domestic efforts, all the while shipping greater quantities of scraps, including fish and dairy and oily foods, to the program.
That in and of itself is a victory and a thrill. But then I also signed up for a plot at our town’s community garden. From the back end of the food cycle, I move to the front end. But not without a lot of work and a steep learning curve.
I was so excited to see our 15x15’ plot last weekend. I stopped by to check it out and might have groaned out loud. I had been imagining a beautiful brown plot of land, ready to receive little seedlings that would sprout into cucumbers, arugula and carrots in mere months. Instead, the plot was choked with weeds and ground bees. Unattended for months, it needs a reboot.
I’ve done a few sprint-sessions of weeding, slowly, slowly clearing away green to reveal brown. But I’ve done it with a smile. The vibe at the garden is so great. Everyone tends their plots with a signature style and varying levels of seriousness. Every time I go, someone new introduces themselves and offers genuine interest and advice. It literally has a communal vibe. There are sheds with tools, water hoses and wheelbarrows, good intentions, and a beautiful view.
I can’t help but laugh at myself and the pleasure I get from these things. Such a long way from all-nighters in the East Village, vernissage openings in Paris, and playground hangs in Prospect Heights, but here we are.