Well, that’s torn it.
Yesterday’s post, disclosing my “secrets” for winter composting, ended by saying that I’d turned my pile the old-fashioned way (with a fork) since my hole-poking technique hadn’t introduced enough oxygen to let the pile re-heat after its temperature started to drop.
James A-S (Blogging from Blackpitts Garden) emerged from his bundle of blankets long enough to advise using an auger. (Hey—I just figured out why the bonfire, James. Thinking warm thoughts?) Colleen of In the Garden agreed.
Two votes from such esteemed colleagues (if I may so far presume) is enough for me; I at once checked the site James had recommended and found myself drooling over a collection of lovely items, some to be attached to drills, some hand-held.
(Caldwell’s auger. Image from Archwood Greenhouses)
<>Thinking this might be an major improvement over my current system, I spent a good half hour or more trying to find such an item on this side of the Atlantic. Did I find some? Oh, sure. And every single one requires an electric drill.
The movie Sneakers (great fun) ends with each of the protagonists requesting something from a Mr. Abbot, a government (CIA?) agent played by James Earl Jones. (I know this seems a long way from my topic, but bear with me.) I won’t give away why they have the leverage to do this, but Mr. Abbot grants a car to one, a trip to another, etc. When the blind “Whistler” (David Strathairn) steps up, all he wants is “Peace on earth, good will toward men.” Once Mr. Abbot understands this strange request, he draws himself up and utters the following pronouncement:
We are the United States Government. We don’t do that sort of thing.*
Well, guess what. A hand-held auger is available in Britain, and I’ll betcha you could buy one in practically any country in Europe, not to mention Asia. But this is the United States of America, and we don’t do that sort of thing.
Compost report: The re-built pile is up to seventy-plus degrees on the uninsulated side of the bin, and it’s snowing.
*It’s an ongoing argument in our house, whether he says “sort” or “kind.” The lines are sharply drawn (though I can’t remember who’s on which side), and the argument can grow heated. Usually, we end it by watching the movie.