Blogging about hoarding gives me new insight. I see hoarding I haven’t noticed before. Example: I’m even hoarding the compost.
I‘ve had compost ever since I’ve had a house. It’s a religious experience – garbage transformed into fertile soil. I started with a modest mound in the back yard at my Kansas City house – summer grass clippings, autumn leaves, and year round vegetable scraps. Back then, Bob looked at that lowly pile and started buying me nifty interlocking compost bins. By the time we had to move, I had six of them. They’re five of them in my backyard here, where the tree canopy is three times as dense and the leaf cleanup lasts for weeks each fall.
I know I must have some useful compost, but (here’s the hoarding) the last few years I’ve just left it there and piled more leaves on top, not to mention making a mountain of leaves alongside.
Here’s my second experience accepting help. Sam helps me muck out the compost. We even find the sections of a long lost bin lying hidden under the leaves. We distribute several wheelbarrows full of black gold to my outdoor plants. The mountain is reduced to foothills now. Soon most of the leftover leaves will fit into the bins. I think the secret is to leave the extra bin empty so I have a place to turn the compost.