Our bin out back is a miracle of decomposition - full of worms, wood lice, ants and other bugs, insulated all around with styrofoam; that sucker keeps cooking throughout our Nova Scotia winter, even unto minus 20 degrees Celsius. Every spring, we (and by we, I mean Fred, bless his heart) dig up the garden, and fill it with glorious, rich, crumbly compost. We struggle with excess shade, and a pretty short growing season, but by damn, our soil is second to none. The potatoes and tomatoes this year were pretty amazing, and I even grew some window boxes of flowers in pure compost - non-stop blooms all season.
|The garden in Davayé|
|Not a garden; the view towards Vergisson, after a storm|