All farms have compost. Usually it is found in piles, buckets, bags, bins or the backs of large delivery trucks. Wild Raccoon has compost culture. There are composting toilets, composting bins for human food disposal, collection methods for animal waste and plant matter. All of it is carefully, almost obsessively, utilized and maintained.
When the farm formed, all members agreed that composting was simple, easy and necessary. All farms need compost, so it only made sense to weave that practical reality into the fabric if our lives.
As the morning sun broke over the horizon, Bobbi stood on the back porch, feeling the spring cool of the air and watching the wildlife scamper around the ground and trees. This ritual was interrupted by the sound of a truck rumbling and swaying up the dirt road that acted as the Wild Raccoon driveway.
Tom passed Bobbi on his way out to the barn. She pointed out the quickly approaching truck and he just nodded and said ‘compost.’
Bobbi was stunned.
“But we do all of our own composting.” She stammered. “We agreed to be fully compost self-sufficient.”
Tom just blinked a few times, uncomprehending. He was holding a half-full cup of coffee, so his brain wasn’t fully functioning, but it only took a few moments for him to catch-on…and laugh. He fully agreed that the farm does it’s own composting and the plan is to become self-sufficient, but he also strongly assured her that the farm “isn’t there yet.”
“How long does it take to get compost self-sufficient?” Bobbi asked, openly confused.
He laughed again and said “It depends on what you grow.”
Bobbi thought she should bring this up at the next community meeting, but she was already dreading the long academic and theoretical debate. Normally, she thrives on such things, but compost was like football – she knew practically nothing and every discussion of statistics and potentially winning combinations sounded like a cross between white noise and an incomprehensibly complicated foreign language.