Ivy and the Secret Compost

A story about composting and the hidden life of the garden.

At the end of Ivy’s garden stood a big brown bin with a lid. It smelled earthy and a little sour. “What is in there?” she asked. Her grandfather grinned. “Come and meet the workers,” he said.

He lifted the lid. Inside was a dark, crumbly heap of old leaves, peelings and grass clippings. Ivy leaned over and gasped. The heap was moving. Hundreds of tiny creatures wriggled and crawled in the soil.

“These are the decomposers,” said her grandfather. “Worms, slaters, beetles, and microscopic creatures too small to see. They eat the old scraps, and turn them into rich, dark soil.” Ivy poked a finger gently in. It was warm.

“What do they eat?” she asked. “Vegetable peelings, fruit scraps, tea leaves, eggshells and garden clippings,” said her grandfather. “But no meat, no dairy and no cooked food. That would bring pests.” Ivy nodded, taking notes in her head.

From then on, Ivy took charge of the kitchen bucket. After dinner, she collected carrot tops, apple cores and coffee grounds. She carried them down to the compost bin, lifted the lid, and tipped them in, saying, “Dinner for the workers.”

She also turned the heap with a garden fork every week, so the air could get in. “They need to breathe, too,” said her grandfather. Ivy kept a small notebook with a drawing of every creature she spotted.

After three months, the bottom of the bin was full of black, crumbly compost. It smelled sweet and fresh, like a forest floor. Ivy scooped some into a bucket and carried it to the vegetable patch.

Together, they spread it around the tomato plants. A month later, the tomatoes were huge and red. Ivy picked one and bit into it. Juice ran down her chin. “It tastes like the worms did a good job,” she said.

“They did,” said her grandfather. “And so did you.” Ivy smiled, and went to check on her workers, who were munching away under the lid.

Print a garden planting calendar →