Worm poop on Valentine's Day

Last Saturday I started my very own worm composting (or vermicompost) bin and so far my adopted worms have been alive and wriggling around happily. For some reason, the green to brown ratios of traditonal compost piles have always made me nervous, so I decided to ease into composting via a more passive and forgiving practice. There are some food to worm ratios included in setting up a compost bin, but I figured I would just eyeball it.



For my bin, I used a 5 gallon opaque plastic container (worms don't have eyes, but they still can't tolerate light) that I bought at Walmart for $3. After drilling some holes into the top, bottom, and sides for air circulation and drainage, I pushed some screening into the bin to prevent any wayward worms from escaping. I then made sure to shred a couple pounds of black and white newsprint to make the bedding since the metals used in colored ink can be toxic to worms. After the bedding was shredded, damp with water, and fluffed nicely in the bin, I tossed in about one handful of garden soil and two handfuls of red wigglers.

As for the red wigglers, I adopted them from my friend Jodi who is a horticulture teacher and has two bins in her classroom. For people who don't have a friend like Jodi, I assume they either buy their worms at a bait shop or dig for them in a nice fresh pile of manure. They do not use the worms in the garden, because those worms are typically nightcrawlers which don't thrive in composting bin conditions. There are a few different types of worms that can be used, but I think red wigglers are the most common worms used for composting.

On Sunday I fed them some mushed up banana, apple, crushed egg shells, and tea bags. I will probably feed them some potato and carrot peelings again this weekend since already most of the food is gone and rich brown soil (well, worm poop) has taken its place. In a couple of months the entire 5 gallons of bedding and worms will have been turned into a beautiful compost that I can use to nourish the soil, grow more veggies, and begin the whole process again.

My Pretty Wildflower Obsession

I recently graduated from Appalachian State University, an absolutely beautiful school in the mountains of North Carolina. The campus is located 10 minutes from the Blue Ridge Parkway and I would often go for a drive and hike on the trails in between classes.

One morning, I was driving along the parkway when I spotted several beautiful spiky explosions of red among the greenery on the shoulder of the road. I had never seen anything like it before, so I continued to the next overlook to turn around and investigate. I made sure to drive by slowly, even coming to a complete stop, but could not tell just exactly what type of flowers they were. I found another overlook, turned around and made my way back to the flowers, this time deciding to pull off onto the side of the road for a closer look.

I gawked for a couple of minutes, snapped a picture to aid in my

googling later, and got back into my little car. Upon shifting it into drive, I felt the tires spinning and my car lurching edgeways toward the side of the mountain. I slammed on my brakes and put her in reverse to see if I could work my way out, but slid even further. By the time the nose and passenger side of my car were dangling off the side of the mountain, I had slid nearly four feet.

I carefully and slowly got out and sat down in the grass in defeat, but couldn't help laughing at the circumstances that put me in such a unique situation. My dad didn't join in on the laughter, but even the tone of his voice couldn't stifle my giggling. All this just to see a flower. It was Monarda didyma -- the bee balm.

From Dandilion to Daffodil

I haven't always been a gardener, much less a good gardener.

I admit that my houseplants are a little dry and dusty and (except for my indestructable aloe plant) have all but returned to the soil. I can't ramble off the scientific name, common name, soil preference, germination period, and planting conditions of every perennial in the yard. I don't always know which soil amendments to add (but rather just sprinkle a little of everything.) Sometimes my vegetables rot and sometimes I lose the battle against invading hordes of insects. But there is something about putting my hands in the cool earth and seeing the world from a plant's point of view that keeps me coming back for more.

With each new season, I learn more and more about my plants and the beautiful process of turning seeds into food and flowers. This past fall I planted a small winter vegetable garden in the back yard, but the impending drought and record high temperatures in Raleigh only allowed for a couple leaves of bitter lettuce and a small head of broccoli. But this spring I have high hopes. I am expanding my little section of earth to allow for more herbs and veggies, planting a drought tolerant wildflower garden, constructing a rain barrel, and tending to my very own worm composting bin.

I won't do everything right and most of my projects will more than likely result in trial and error type calculations. But there will always be next season and I know that I will be just as eager to get my hands dirty next February.