The Pile

This is our compost pile. The Pile, as I call it. The Pile is very important for our little farm's functions - it ties everything together, it turns pollution (things we have too much of) into resources (things we need). Offal we can't use elsewhere? The Pile will take it. 30 plus hides our lamb customers don't want? The Pile is happy. The Pile doesn't judge - it'll take everything. Adult sheep or a day old chick - makes no difference for the Pile. Everything that dies around here and can not for some reason be eaten by us, the dogs or the chickens goes to the Pile. Really easy - if it's a small thing, I dig a little hole with a shovel. If it's a big thing - I dig a bigger hole with my Kubota. Ten minutes, tops.

There is a part in my brain that tells me I'll go to the Pile at some point too and so will the people I love (another part bumbles something about laws and all that nonsense but I don't usually listen to it). I'm not afraid - the Pile is nice and it smells really good and it makes killer soil that enables all kind of plants to grow even in that kingdom of sand we're in. I don't mind becoming a plant when it's my time. It'll be a happy plant, I think. Because you see - the soil is really good.