Zen and the Art of Composting

I just returned from my compost pile, where I deposited the stem of a zucchini, the tip of a yam, a red pepper stem, the bottom of two baby bok choys: the remnants of a soup I made today. The soup feeds my wife and me; the scraps feed Mother Earth.

On the way back from the compost, I plucked ripe elderberries from a bush – small and tart, with tiny woody seeds (the dessert for my soup-meal!). Composting gets you out of the house, like walking the dog. Dog owners are thinner than cat lovers, because they have to walk, while cat people must form their legs into laps and sit motionless for hours.

Composting heats the earth. A compost pile has warmth, like a human hand. (Or more like a breast, sometimes with the butt of a carrot on top as a “nipple.”) It’s warm because of bacteria: therm