This Compost Reeks!

It's a long time we've been composting. Several decades in fact. And, in fact, it was our younger son who suggested it, convinced us it would be a good idea and even built our first compost-enclosure. I'd fed it faithfully until winter came, then forgot about it. The next summer when I was out in the garden I remembered and wondered what had become of everything I'd tossed into it. And that's when I discovered that wonderfully friable black gold, and used it happily in the garden. That was a different house, another time long gone.

We've got three composters on the go in the backyard of the house we've been living in for fifteen years. We fill one, let it work itself out, begin on another. And it's absolutely amazing how much compost each of these containers can receive. I have a two-gallon-sized covered pail under the sink cabinet, and it gets filled and released to the compost bin twice a week. I don't take it out, my husband, hardly soul, does; from summer to winter and beyond. The composter swallows up those parts of the vegetables and fruits that are inedible; egg shells, tea and coffee grounds, stale bread, and other innocuous comestibles.

In the gardening months some gardening detritus also goes into the composters. And once a year, usually in the late fall, one of the composters is emptied and its melted-down contents sprinkled, lavished upon the garden beds and borders. The compost that is withdrawn should be dry and crumbly and resemble dark soil, enriched composting material, with evidence here and there of the vegetables and fruits from which it has come.

Amazingly (but perhaps not) each year we find surprises in our gardens. Sometimes vines upon which grow eventually honeydews, or tomato vines coming up in the various gardens. It's always a bit of a surprise to discover what kind of tomatoes they are; sometimes cherry tomatoes, sometimes large plump field tomatoes. Special gifts from our composter.

Lately, however, it's become obvious we're doing something wrong. The finished product is not as it should be. We know that before we even withdraw that black gold from its holding space. We can see liquid compost leaking constantly from under the composter over to the trunk of the apple tree that sits closest to it. That should give the tree a great boost, we imagine.

And there are worms everywhere, even discovered when we removed fallen leaves that had clumped on top of the composter and revealed a little nest of happily-squirming worms among them. It's a very nice environment for worms, for bacteria, for all manner of fibre-loving creatures breaking down the offerings to their bare nutritional constituents.

All very well and good. But the compost! It's wet and slimy even though we can see the raw fruits and vegetables, the breads and grounds and shells have been well broken down. And the smell, it truly is disgusting. It's sharp and noxious. But Button, our little black poodle is ecstatic over the odour, she seeks it out, would roll in it if we let her. She also sneakily attempts to casually stroll past our gaze to nibble on any accessible bits and pieces.

We know, from the experience of the past three wet-compost garden sprinkles that this disgusting odour will be around for a while, before the exposure to the air will finally dissipate it. Meanwhile, over winter, the compost we're using as garden mulch will slowly break down even more and eventually make its way down into the soil to enrich the garden and all growing things.

We're keeping our compost too moist, I know. It could be better aerated, I know. This compost reeks!
Oh dear.