Crisis and Compost

You will be happy to hear that the Oman marriage has weathered a massive marital crisis. It was tough for a while, but we are doing well now. As you might expect, the dispute centered on compost.

We have a lot of really cool compost. A summer of assiduously saving table scraps, grass clippings, and rotten, deer-spoiled vegetables has paid off. We have a pile of wonderfully rich and blacked compost ready for the spreading. Not only does the compost represent the promise of better dirt next year, but it is also the culmination of months of work and patience. In short, it is a major family accomplishment. This is where the marital crisis comes in.

Except for a final die-hard jalepeno plant and one last pumpkin, our garden is through. So Heather and Jacob went up to the garden a few days ago, pulled up the last of our dead watermelon and cucumber plants, and spread the compost. That is right. She pulled up the chicken wire coop that had enclosed our compost pile all summer, and then spread the entire pile over our now fallow-field. WITHOUT ME! She enjoyed the moment of compost triumph, the magical revelation of just how black and rich the bottom of the pile was, and the fun and excitement of spreading the fruits of our carefully developed rot all without me. I missed it.

It made for a few rocky moments. I felt as though I had been excluded from some sort of deep gardening ritual that I by right should have participated in. We’ve since worked through this. Jacob and I went up to the garden yesterday and dug the compost in, so I did get some participation in the rot-spreading finale. As for the compost itself, it is pretty good if I don’t say so myself.

16 comments for “Crisis and Compost

  1. Sarah
    October 28, 2005 at 3:07 pm

    Now you can more fully appreciate the discussion at fmh about women being excluded from baby blessings. ^_~

  2. Chance
    October 28, 2005 at 3:25 pm

    I heard at Stake Conference that the illicit spreading of compost can be linked to 3 out of every 10 LDS divorces.

  3. Adam Greenwood
    October 28, 2005 at 3:32 pm

    That’s it. You let her off that easy?

    Where’s your principles, man?

  4. Kaimi
    October 28, 2005 at 3:37 pm


    I suggest you retaliate by salting her fields. That will show her to steal your hard-earned compost.

    On a related note, I’ve found that “I was trying to make compost” is not a good excuse for leaving leftover chicken and noodles in the refrigerator for an eight-week period. . .

  5. a random John
    October 28, 2005 at 3:41 pm

    I used to get mad if my mom would till and I didn’t get a chance to. Now I know that tilling is evil and kills worms.

  6. Mark B.
    October 28, 2005 at 4:03 pm


    That’ll only work with cabbage and broccoli. All good composters know that meat doesn’t go there.

  7. john scherer
    October 28, 2005 at 4:32 pm

    My wife changed the kitty litter once before I could get home from work.

    We spent three years in counseling.

  8. October 28, 2005 at 4:54 pm

    Well, for your sake Nate, I’m glad your marriage survived. I adore your wife. Before Heather showed up, I wasn’t entierly certain you were really human. But now I believe.

  9. Don
    October 28, 2005 at 7:27 pm

    Your problems have really only started. What happens next year when this compost produces huge amounts of fantastic veggies and such? Who is going to take the credit? Look out because the compost could hit the fan!

  10. Derek
    October 28, 2005 at 8:01 pm

    Knowing how upset you were when she didn’t ask you to help spread the compost, she will never again rearrange the furniture or tackle any other chores without your help. You’re doomed!

  11. October 28, 2005 at 9:17 pm

    You haven’t begun to understand the possibilities of compost. Ask your dad. Get in the car, drive around the neighborhoods. Imagine how many there are where you live. Take plastic bags, fill them with leaves wherever you find them, stop and talk to strangers, most of them will let you take their leaves, take them to your garden and spread them there. Leaves feet deep are best. Don’t stop until the snow comes, until you’re exhausted, until you wife isn’t speaking to you. Then you’ll begin to understand the wonders of compost. . . .

  12. October 28, 2005 at 9:20 pm

    Need I add that compost must be passed down in the genes.

  13. October 29, 2005 at 11:16 am


    It’s definitely an Oman male thing. Nate took a sample to send to his dad. I’m not kidding.

    The sad thing is, I believe Nate when he says, “Hey, Dad will be thrilled, you know he will be!”

    You and I both know he’s right.

  14. October 29, 2005 at 11:22 am

    We’ve also been spared the ritual of combing the neighborhoods for leaves, because our community association stores the leaves they clean up from our lawns by the garden, so we get ready-made compost that way, which is nice. And there are lots more trees here, remember, so they are more readily available.

    We have, however, been known to pull over the side of the road to fill our car with bags of grass, and even to take an alternate route home from church (Sunday is, apparantly, yard waste day) to hit some neighborhoods we had missed on the way there.

    All this effort, and his wife goes ahead and spreads it all WITHOUT HIM! I must be a bad wife.

  15. October 31, 2005 at 11:06 am

    The smell of rotting grass always reminds me of home.

  16. Jon Eskelsen
    November 11, 2005 at 7:35 am


    You can come over to my house and make and spread all the compost you would like.

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