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Vermiculture: Tom’s New Can of Worms

Tom
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How to Make a Cheap and Portable Worm Compost Bin

vermiculture worm castingsBlack Gold, Tall Clover Tea: Homegrown worm castings and compost are in your grasp

My interest in worms began at an early age when I realized the creatures had special powers; they could make my sister squeal and lure lake fish to my awaiting hook. The night before our fishing safaris, we would water my grandparents’ lawn, and with the finesse of a jewel thief and speed of a mongoose, pluck up night crawlers escaping from their soggy dens. (Don’t be fooled, the  slimy critters are fast.)

Nowadays I appreciate them even more as natural alchemists, turning green garbage into gardening gold. A little red wriggler can breakdown a substantial amount of kitchen scraps– an estimated one quarter to one half pound of waste every day for every pound of worm.

I came up a large capacity do-it-yourself worm bin as a cheap and easy way to enjoy the benefits of vermiculture without a lot of building fuss and preparation. The first worm bin examples are smaller versions from my composting past.

The Green Cone food composter is an great urban solution for food wastes. A hole is dug, the basket dropped in and the top cone and lid attached. Vegetarian food scraps are added daily, and some time later, worm castings and compost can be removed and added to the garden. This system works best with two cones. When cone 1 is full, start supplying cone 2 with edibles. By the time cone 2 is full, cone 1’s contents will be ready for use as a soil amendment or light fertilizer.  City of Seattle residents can buy the $100 bin for the subsidized price of $25  or two for $40. It’s a rotting good deal. Learn more.

The Cadillac of Worm Composters is a five-layer tower version that’s a little more complicated and requires closer operational attention. It’s a pricey little bugger at $100, featuring a drain spigot for the removal of excess moisture. I use the coffee-colored liquid  as a fertilizing compost tea. Unfortunately this plastic stackable unit couldn’t keep up with my volume of leaves, rinds, peels and stalks.

Tah dah! Being cheap is the mother of my invention. Here’s the solution, an $11.99, 33-gallon plastic waste can on wheels with a locking lid.  A few added holes, bedding, and worms, and you’re good to go.


Begin by drilling drain holes on the bottom of the can, which allows liquids to escape. (We’re not trying to create primordial soup here.) At the other end, drill quarter-inch holes in the lid (on both sides) to allow for air circulation and venting. Worms need oxygen, too.

Lid off, line the can with shredded newspaper, then toss in ten inches of peat moss (fine compost and coconut coir work, also). Mix shredded paper into the top four inches and then add your red wriggler worms to the mix with a splash of water. Top the whole thing with your veggie leftovers–old lettuce leaves, apple peels or asparagus ends, etc. (My worms eat well.) Add the lid and lock it in place.

My worm bin sits under a huge, shading fir tree, to keep it cool.  There, the little guy-gals (they’re hermaphroditic) do their thing.

Every other time you add plant scraps, toss in some shredded paper for good measure and bedding material.

Tips and things to consider for your Worm Bin Wonder

  • The bin needs full shade and to be kept cool
  • Get starter worms from friends who already have worm bins
  • Coffee grounds can be added to the mix
  • Red wrigglers can be purchased at nursery, garden centers or online
  • Red wrigglers compost food more quickly than regular earthworms
  • Don’t add animal products (though crushed egg shells seem okay)
  • Add a layer of shredded paper at least once a week
  • Make sure the contents don’t dry out (unlikely in most cases)
  • A two bin system works well. When one is full, move to the other and alternate harvesting compost.
  • Screen finished compost, return worms to bin and begin process again.
  • Spread the compost love around the base of your favorite plants

Your roses will nod with approval.

The ferns will kiss your feet (after suggesting a toenail trim is in order)

UPDATE: Your Worm Bin in Winter

Option 1: Store in non-freezing out building

  • Roll the can into a garage or storage shed where temperatures remain above freezing
  • Because the can drains, slip a large plastic yard bag over the can about one foot up the side and tape to can.
  • Remove bag and drain liquid as it accumulates
  • Or place over drain hole

Option 2: Insulate outdoors

  1. Dig a hole in a garden compost pile
  2. Set the worm bin inside
  3. Cover to top rim with leaves or compost
  4. Cover lid with a couple layers of burlap
  5. I use green coffee bean bags (The Roasterie is just down the road from me.)
  6. Decomposition creates warmth and the insulation helps retain it

Related Links

http://astore.amazon.com/tallcloverfar-20/detail/B000Q5S7RM

Mothers Day: Mom’s the Word

Tom
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A younger me in the company of Mom and Grandma greatness.

Mother’s Day is a tough one to get right sometimes; it has been a lifelong learning curve that I’m just now beginning to understand. For years, I thought the celebration was about the gift or flowers, about matching a material gesture to the heart of the woman I call Mom. And while such things are and were appreciated and cherished wholeheartedly, my mother would always say, “You shouldn’t have. You  know I’m happy with just a card.”

My siblings and I never believed her; a card couldn’t possibly be enough. Now much wiser (as seen in my greying temples and pensive visage), I see that she was indeed telling the truth (as mothers should).

Whether you buy or make a card, this is truly a case where it’s the thoughts that count. If you’re having trouble, think of what you’d say to a friend in describing your Mom and why she’s special to you. And while there are no doubt volumes to tell, keep it simple, earnest and something that will brighten her day, this day and every time she rereads it (and she will).

The idea of setting aside one day to celebrate my mother falls short. Though a nice societal nod, the occasion does not fully define her or live up to what she’s done over a lifetime with aplomb, fortitude, perseverance, grace and humor. Mom’s deserve our hearts every day–our kind words, support, attention and respect.

So on this Mother’s Day, I plan to celebrate my Mom every day by living the lessons she taught me every day:  words trump trinkets; listening outshines lecturing; actions eclipse intentions and there’s no substitute for heart and home.”Happy Mother’s Day!

Boz and Gracie agree (and also feel the love).

My sister continues the tradition by joining the ranks of World’s Greatest Moms

Today Is Special…And So Is Tomorrow

Tom
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Whether tap water, hard cider (above) or French Champagne, drink up, toast the day.

I have a quirk (okay, maybe a lot of quirks), but I’m not so sure this slant has served me well. I often keep something for a special occasion or reserve it for a more audacious or celebratory moment. I’m no hoarder (at least not yet), but after a couple rounds of unexpected self-reflection (personal growth is so exhausting), I came face to face with yet another epiphany and vowed to change my off-based penchant of waiting for a special time or place to enjoy something, and to favor the goodness here and now (or at least before its expiration date or subsequent deterioration).

Pie unrealized, and a message from my favorite apples: use us or lose us.

Case in point, four years ago a dear and generous friend I don’t see enough of, Ellen, came by for a visit and left me with a bottle of Veuve Clicquot champagne.  As a man used to buying ‘champagnes’ with appellations nowhere near France or the premium wine rack, I tried not to clutch the thing like a chilled newborn.

Fast forward to my birthday dinner this year. I ran out of bubbly, but was drawn to the gleam of an orange-gold label in the back of my cluttered fridge. As an  icebox fixture for close to half a decade, the Veuve Clicquot finally broke its silence and called out to me (exasperated and in French no less) “Monsieur, le moment est venu.” When magnums speak, I listen (and don’t drive). Indeed, the time was now to enjoy.

I uncorked the puppy (quite improperly I might add), bestowing a fine dent in the ceiling and a lesser example on the the forehead of an unsuspecting dinner guest (beware of the ricochet). We dispatched the bottle before a cold compress could soothe a surprisingly understanding (and now swelling) brow. While the champagne was heaven on high, I appreciated that the people around me made the moment special, not so much the libation. The bottle sat empty, but the evening brimmed full.

Lesson learned: saving this 2004 Parisian souvenir for a special occasion only sealed its fate in the can and as a cake not baked.

Is there a message here? Oh I don’t know, I just think too often we run around saving things for better days or times, when every day really is a special gift. Perhaps a readjustment is needed; use your good china, eat from silver, share a meal, give someone flowers, buy a pal coffee, wear your Sunday best on a Wednesday, pet a friendly dog, call a sibling, split a dessert, mow a neighbor’s lawn. (Uh, second thought, let’s omit that last one.)  Things don’t make the day special, people do.

Don’t get me wrong; of course not every day is swell. Some days embody the staleness of a week-old biscuit or the sourness of turned milk. For me, seizing the day does not mean I have to climb a mountain, cure cancer or swim with dolphins, but it does mean I have to engage, listen and be willing to open my eyes to the people, delights and gifts around me. By always waiting for a special occasion, we can miss out on the present.

Boz is all about Carpe Diem; leave a chair empty, and he will surely join the party.

The Hardware Store Restaurant on our main drag sums it well in an old wooden sign posted on the landmark’s Northeast corner: Today’s special…and so is tomorrow.

I couldn’t agree more.

This actually was a special occasion, a sunny day in Seattle.

Why Make Compost? Glad You Asked.

Tom
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Seattle leads the nation in home composting, an impressive development thanks to the City of Seattle and King County’s effort to make it easy and almost second nature for residents to do so.

According to King County, over 90 percent of single family households can now recycle food scraps in their yard waste bin, and turn last night’s pot roast and potatoes into a new main course for the garden. My people call it compost, a nutrient-rich soil amendment that helps your garden grow.

Since I live in rural King County, where yard/food waste pick-up is not available, I have to be a little more resourceful and focused to make home composting happen. Not a problem, as I’ve come up with a cheap and easy (my two favorite adjectives) way to make a worm compost bin.  Once I snap some photos and find the right words to properly heap praise upon the miracle of vermiculture (worm composting), I shall share my revelations on making the right stuff, right here at home.

UPDATE: My DIY Worm Bin and Backyard Composter

Vermiculture: Tom’s New Can of Worms

In the meantime, here are some related links to get you started:

May bluebells bloom beautifully thanks to an autumn dressing of composted leaves.Boz is an avid (if not haphazard) composter–here, making handy work of a bone and bed of bluebells.

LOVE on the Horizon, Fun Along the Shore

Tom
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Dom channeling his inner Robert Indiana

The logistical challenges of living on an island serviced by a car ferry are many. When friends come to visit me from off-island, I tend to prep or remind them of what to expect when their road more traveled becomes a marine highway subject to the whims of weather, schedules and load factors.

Today’s weather forecast: Popsicle toes

So today, when some dear pals from Seattle missed getting on the Vashon ferry by two cars, and had to wait for the next ferry, they sent a text alerting me along with some inspired snapshots. For some folks, a missed ferry is reason to complain and fidget. For others it’s cause for an impromptu beach walk where an unexpected delay allows time for play. And for an even rarer few, it’s reason enough to share the L-O-V-E.

Miss Lucy jumps for joy on a West Seattle beach.

First island stop Vashon Farmers Market–from one good egg to another!

(photos: Sam and Dom)

Who’s Been Sleeping in My Hammock?

Tom
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Last Saturday, we received our one allotted day of partly sunny weather for the week, so I feverishly begin tackling the chores reserved for outdoor duty. By mid-morning, I was ready to take a break. I thought a little respite on the hammock would work wonders in restoring my enthusiasm (and back) for more weeding, mowing, pruning and planting.

As I rounded the corner of the house, I was startled to see a sagging hammock, and by all accounts, an occupied hammock. Approaching, I wondered, who’s cheeky enough to commandeer my hammock, especially as I toil in the beds beyond. Seconds later, I had my answer.

Grasshoppers, I have taught you well.

The healing powers of the hammock should not be underestimated. (Now scoot over.)

Today’s Proverb: A Load of Crap

Tom
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Today’s Proberb (based on local feedback)

  • He who has a parcel of errands in town, should refrain from first loading his truck with manure…or perhaps
  • If one’s truck is full of crap, stay home (until emptied).

“What? We don’t smell anything?” B&G: My two shotgun-riding sanitation engineers.

High Fashion Goes to the Dogs

Tom
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Boz & Gracie Sport a Slicker New Look

Boz and Gracie enjoy taking time to smell the flowers while showing off the latest in farm fashions.

Uh oh, I can hear the rumblings and see the eye rolls now; Tom’s taken to dressing up the dogs. (Well, I do live alone.) Actually I’ve only done it once, and that was to keep up appearances for a couple purebreds hellbent on a poker game at our place. (They insisted on a business casual.)

Boz is not quite sure if the cape is better at repelling rain or enhancing canine powers.

Boz & Gracie have never been prisoners of fashion. Sure they don a nice top-stitched leather collar and lead once in a while, but bonnets,  wigs and jumpsuits are costumes best left to insecure Poodles and dogmatic  Chihuahuas. For the most part,  and Tartan aside, the only thing Boz and Gracie like to feel on their back is a reassuring pat and occasional bum scratch.

Always the lady, Gracie makes fast work of a plastic pot with nary a collar out of place.

Last week after talking to my Mom about our poor run of weather,  I mentioned to her Boz and Gracie’s reluctance to exit the house for anything less than a sunny day. With a Seattle rainfall record in March, and April playing out to be the all-time coldest April on record, the bullies are bearish on getting soaked and chilled.

A couple of dandy lions among the dandelions.

One week later a parcel arrives and my pups are staying high and dry. Thanks to my Mom’s design, pattern-making, sewing skills, and sense of style, Boz and Gracie have been outfitted with rain capes worthy of Burberry and London Fog.

And while summer tends to be a dry season in the Pacific Northwest, it’s also the beginning of Dungeness Crab, fried chicken and rib season. Bulldogs permitting, I believe I’ve found another use for these handsome capes (and yes, it would appear Boz and I share the same neck size).

Thanks Mom, from Boz, Gracie and the Guy with the bib.

Salmonberry Flower: Pretty in Pink

Tom
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I don’t have a whole lot to say this morning (now there’s a switch), but this blossom from a volunteer salmonberry bush (Rubus spectabilis) caught my attention, and I thought perhaps yours would like to be caught, as well.

Related Links:

Friends Don’t Let Friends Buy Store-Bought Jam

Tom
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Jam First Responder: Nancy to the rescue, jars in hand.

The Surprise Arrival of Homemade Jam

Yesterday, I pondered the absence of jam in my pantry. Today, a goddess named Nancy, traveled down the Westside highway (her chariot a full-size flat bed truck) to bestow a coveted cache of delicacies on me and wrong the right of culinary deprivation.

As Boz and Gracie greeted our jar juggler on the porch, I wasted no time or decorum in asking her (the man has no shame), “Are those for me?” Nancy smiled and said, “Yes, friends don’t let friends buy store-bought jam.”

Nancy, a gifted cook, skillful canner and downright awesome friend, set a quartet of  jars down on  the counter for me to inspect. She said, “Let’s see, I brought you sour cherry preserves, some chunky caramelized apple sauce, pear chutney and cinnamon-apple pie filling.  At least I think that’s what she said, as I had difficulty hearing over the choir of angels singing in my head and the licking of my chops.

Jarred by such generosity

I thanked Nancy with words, hugs, tea and bread, and broke out a few jars of my remaining provisions in the form of homemade salsa verde, orange marmalade, and summer fruit chutney. She was delighted, but really expected nothing in return(which of course is no surprise).

Nancy, just in case you read this…in addition to my undying devotion, should you a need a kidney transplant, a tire changed or mousetrap cleared, I’m your man.

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