That was basically the reaction I got last night, when the DH arrived home and discovered our lovely new compost bin nestled next to the deck stairs. The bin, previously home to some give-away clothing I'd stored in the basement, is now half-full of the evening's fruit and veggie scraps, coffee grounds, and a couple of junk-mail newspapers.
He'll get over it. I think he's amused more than anything about my formerly-closeted Dundee Barbee self rearing it's patchoili-scented head. I'm 3/8 hippie, you know. Hippy-dippy is probably a more accurate description - I meant to take pictures of the whole compost-bin construction process, but alas I could not locate the camera I had used less than 20 minutes prior to this adventure. I took it outside to photograph some flowers blooming in the front yard (at least something is growing!) and now I know that I then carried it into the basement and set it down to pick up the bin. I managed to look everywhere BUT the basement before giving up to prepare for belly dance class. Oh, well.
Composting is a slightly intimidating project, but I honestly think the hardest part will be keeping the schnauzer-dog from peeing on it.
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