Compost Update

February is winding to a close, which means that we've been following our new composting regimen for nearly two months now, and I figured it's time for an update.

Between the two of us, Steve and I have done a pretty good job of turning/rolling the bin at least three times a week. Unfortunately, our £7.50 RollMix Composter doesn't seem to be able to withstand even two months of that kind of use. There's a springy wire that wraps around the outside of the cylinder to help hold its shape, and the end of that wire popped out within about two weeks of use. After three or four weeks, the casing for that wire started to rip around the middle. At this point, I just hope that the bag itself lasts long enough for us to decide whether or not a big, rigid compost tumbler on a frame is worth the investment.

The wire on our RollMix Composter started poking out of its casing
after just a few weeks of use.

At this point, it's still difficult to say whether the frequent turning has had any significant effect on the rate of composting. The stuff in the compost tumbler does seem to be breaking down a little bit, but I don't know whether that's actually the case, or if the new additions just look brown because they have a coating of dirt on them from being mixed with the rest of the compost.

Frequent turning of the pile is supposed to help create a better oxygenated environment for the aerobic bacteria that do the heavy lifting in the initial stage of composting, but those bacteria also need heat, which is in short supply this time of year. As I'm typing this, the weather guy on the radio is going on at some length about the "Beast from the East" bringing icy weather from Russia and making this the coldest February in some large number of years, so our local population of decomposers is working at a serious disadvantage.

Whether or not the tumbling action has made a significant difference, there can be no doubt that the composition of the pile has a huge effect on the behavior of the compost.

Universal Pancake Recipe

A few weeks ago, I promised that I would post my Universal Pancake Recipe.

The first few years I went gluten-free, I hated it. Okay, I still hate it, but I've also learned to appreciate the staggering variety of flavors and textures that are available beyond the basic three grains.

As I was re-learning how to cook without wheat, barley, and rye, pancakes were one of the first things that really *worked* for me. I'm terrible about following recipes, preferring to eyeball rather than measure, and substitute whatever happens to be at hand. Pancakes were the first thing that I felt comfortable eyeballing, and having at least one dish that I understood well enough to improvise gave me back a lot of my confidence as a cook. They're a great, low-commitment way to try out a new flour or flour blend.

Hopefully, if anybody else out there is struggling with re-learning how to cook gluten-free, this will help give you the confidence to experiment, and the knowledge to rescue something that doesn't seem to be working at first.

Weekend update, 17-18 February

Saturday was spent in the garden. The weather was finally clear enough for Steve to put the second raised bed into place. Our cloche hoops finally arrived, so I bent those into shape, and covered them with new, not-ripped fleece. Doesn't it look much nicer now?

As long as I was out in the garden, I picked a few radishes, transplanted a few that were overcrowded, and moved a few shovelfuls of dirt back into the raised beds. (We needed to clear a bunch of dirt in order to set the beds into place.) Our soil is still very, very heavy clay, but it was heartening to see SO MANY WORMS in every shovelful.

On Sunday, I intended to make pancakes, feed the worms, do some sewing, write a blog post, etc. but I only got as far as making pancakes before my brain chemistry turned against me and I became non-functional for the rest of the day. Will try again next weekend.

First Foray into Naalbinding

I need a new craft hobby like I need another hole in my head.

That said, speaking as someone with five piercings in each ear and one in my nose, that clearly hasn't stopped me before.

Last September, I found myself looking ahead at a 3-day conference bookended by a train journey of roughly six hours involving multiple commuter trains (noteworthy for their complete lack of luggage space) at either end. I had just finished my last big commuting project, and all of my other unfinished projects were not terribly portable. I needed to find something compact and brainless but time-consuming, and I didn't have time to shop around for new tools or supplies. (Besides, the fabric/yarn embargo still stands.)

So it was that I picked up a bone needle and a ball of homespun wool, and took up yet another craft.

January carrots, or, The trouble with seasons

Needless to say, there's a bit of a learning curve to growing your own food. Particularly if you grew up in a place like Southern California where seasons are something that happens to other people, and then move somewhere like, say, Scotland or Wales where seasons make the difference between lounging outside with a picnic of fresh strawberries, green salad, and roasted summer squash, versus sitting in your house shivering and hoping you never see another rutabaga as long as you live.


This year, we did a lot of things really well. One of the things we didn't do so well was carrots.