Confessions of a Composter

I have been secretly composting for about two months now. Well, we've been vermicomposting for about four months actually. But our real compost bin has only been up and running for about two months. It's right behind this bush here.

I have been clandestine about the whole thing because when I announced that I wanted to start composting, I got a pretty negative reaction. Everything from "gross, you are going to have a stinky mess in the backyard" to "Caitlin, you are so weird."

In May, I loaded my kids up in the car and headed over to a city-sponsored event where Chicago residents could buy a simple, rodent-proof composting bin for $35 bucks (and I spent at least $25 buying compost for my garden this year).

The set up was pretty straightforward. Okay, actually I forgot to put the bottom on when I first set it up, but that was easily remedied. I collect fruit and veggie scraps under my sink in a little bin and dump it in my composter along with some yard waste every few days or so.

And you won't believe what is happening -- it's making compost. No yucky smells. No rat party. No bugs -- at least so far.

The whole process is really simple -- and I feel good about it. So do Ellie and Brendan. Last week, we were chopping up strawberries and Ellie admonished Brendan, "Not in the garbage, save the tops for the composter." That's got to be a good thing, right?

Here is where the magic happens.