Frosty on the outside, steaming on the inside.

A compost pile can be kind of the reverse of a baked Alaska:  a cool outer layer contains a surprisingly hot interior.  The other morning there was frost on the ground all around our new compost bin (made of 4 wood pallets tied together with the ever-present baling twine).  Inside, though, things were cooking:  the 20-inch thermometer read 145 degrees F, well into the "hot" zone on the color-coded thermometer, which always brings a sense of pride.

I'll admit, it's a bit ridiculous to own a special tool for measuring the temperature of the compost (especially since we also have one thermometer dedicated to cheese making, and another for candy/ chocolate making/ oven temps, plus a laser thermometer for the coffee roasting).  But on the plus side, it keeps me from plunging my bare hand into the center of a giant pile of hot damp rotting food scraps, weeds, and horse manure on a daily basis.  I think we can all agree that's worth something right there, especially when cleanup facilities currently include no running water, just the blue collapsible jugs on the table.

I've always gotten a certain satisfaction out of having compost that is too hot to handle.  Even though I don't stick my hand down into the pile so often now (which has saved me a lot of splinters, thistle-pricks, and encounters with unidentifiable slime), I often still have to pull out the metal thermometer, feel the end uncomfortable to the touch, and smile.  If it's too hot for me, I know those thistles aren't going to be happy about it either.  After a few hot days this pile will gradually cool down, age nicely, and be excellent for spreading in the spring on those very beds I pulled the thistles out of. 

When we left Oregon we left behind some heart-breakingly beautiful compost:  one bin richly finished and being worked over by worms, another cooking away and on track to be beautiful for spreading in the fall to put the gardens to bed.  It was sad to lose those, though it looks like the landlord from that place will use them and they won't go to waste.  So it's great to get some good lively compost going here; it's a good step towards making a place "home."  


Note of fair warning:  this will not be the last time I brag about the heat of my compost, or share my excitement about decomposing organic matter.  You might as well forgive me now, several times, and get it out of the way.