Steve lives in my garage. Crammed inside three bins, he squirms, churns, and wriggles away from the light when I open the lid. I got Steve from a friend four years ago and have never feared losing him to bears or coyotes. He doesn’t smell, beg, track dirt inside, or require walks or veterinarian appointments. He doesn’t require much at all. I love him. He is my colony of worms, and I’ve named each one of them Steve.
Composting in Tahoe is not impossible but it’s a habit we must learn. Food scraps trapped inside garbage bags and buried in landfills have no opportunity to break down. They rot and create methane, which the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency describes as “a potent greenhouse gas with 21 times the global warming potential of carbon dioxide.” The EPA reports that U.S. landfills account for a fifth of methane emissions, an unnecessary percentage all caused by rotting food. Composting, on the other hand, turns wilted lettuce and potato peels into rich, healthy nutrients for soil while reducing your carbon footprint. So why aren’t we doing it?
In Tahoe, we are mindful about garbage location, but what about garbage production? The couple that lives next door to me sets out an overflowing trash can every single week. What in the world are they putting in there? My three-person household recycles, composts, and produces less than half a bag of garbage per week. All thanks to Steve. Outdoor decomposition has microorganisms like fungi, bacteria, and insects that break down food scraps in a pile in your yard. If you’re concerned that outdoor composting will attract the attention of bears, raccoons, and neighborhood dogs, start your own compost inside. All you need are red worms and three plastic bins, which are available from $40 to $200 at stores like The Villager Nursery in Truckee and Tahoe Tree Company in Tahoe City. It’s also easy to convert regular bins to be compost-ready, all for less than $30.
1) Prepare Your Bins. Stack three dark-colored rubber bins, allowing two-inch gaps where the castings, or nutrient-rich fertilizer produced by worms, will drop. In the top two bins, drill half-inch holes spaced three inches apart. In the bottom bin, drill one drainage hole. Drill small air holes in one lid (you won’t need the other two lids, so repurpose as needed). Tilt the stacked bins slightly to allow the leachate — liquid that settles in or below worm castings and boosts microbiological activity in soil once diluted — to drain into a cup.
2) Make Your Bed. Collect compostable food scraps in a decorative pot or kitchen compost caddy during the week. When the pot is full, you get to visit Steve, or whatever you’ve named your worm colony. Layer the top bin with shredded damp paper (avoiding colored ink), dirt from the yard, corrugated cardboard, a dash of rotting pine needles (not too many as they are quite acidic), and your week’s worth of decomposing food, like wilted spinach, apple cores, eggshells, tealeaves, and so on.
3) Add Your Worms, but not just any worms will do. Use red worms (eisenia fetida) aka red wiggles because they thrive in crowded spaces. Red worms can be purchased at gardening stores or online. Or I will donate some Steves to you.
4) Keep On Composting. Steve will do most of the work for you, but there is some maintenance required. Control the moisture by adding newspaper when the bin is too wet (you’ll know by the appearance of fruit flies), and keep the pH balanced between the additions of acidic and basic foods. Like humans, Steve prefers a balanced diet. Keep your compost bin vegetarian, meaning no meat, fish, milk, cheese, or yogurt, but eggshells are welcome. Occasional stirring with a garden fork is encouraged, as is annual cleaning out of the bins. Your compost really is like a pet, requiring continued care, so check out sites like the Compost Guy’s redwormcomposting.com to keep learning all the glories of composting.
If bears are your fear, know that a healthy compost bin has no foul odor; it will smell like fresh soil after a good rain. If your bin does smell, your worms are probably dead. If no leachate drains from the bottom hole, it may be clogged and your worms are at risk of drowning. If rotting food is scary, replace rotting with the word “decomposition,” the natural breakdown that food deserves. Doesn’t that already feel better? If changing habits is scary, look up “methane pollution” and try another way of reducing your personal greenhouse gases.
The average Placer County resident produces roughly 3.9 pounds of trash per day, much more than nature can absorb. How much garbage do you produce? How will you reduce it? According to my personal study, if every household in Placer County began composting, we’d reduce our trash by 75 percent. I think it’s time we invest in Steve.
~ Are you compost-curious? Do you want Meghan Robins to help you set up your own bin? Comment online, visit moonshineink.com.
