I had been a huge coffee addict in college. Coffee was a way of life for me, drinking 5 cups of turkish coffee before I hit my morning classes was normal, until one day the heart palpitations and headaches started. Then I called it quits for over 10 years.
My husband, David, had never ever drank coffee until about 3 years ago. We had always been tea drinkers. One day he tried a Mocha Latte a friend had bought and he came home raving about how good it was. Thus, started our coffee drinking adventure together.
Do any of you know that person who can grow anything, anywhere with little to no effort? My Mom is one of those people. She can pick a sprig of who-knows-what off the parking lot of the Home Depot, stick it in some dirt at home and the next thing you know, there’s a tree! Really.
I, on the other hand, have not been that successful of a farmer (except for all the cacti I have, which are hard to kill). As a kid we always had a garden. Didn’t matter where, my Mom always planted one where ever we lived and it always thrived.
When I was growing up, I remember my mom would always make the comment that a little dirt was good for you. She would usually say this when something would hit the floor for a few seconds, say a hot dog in the backyard or when my brother would put some dirt in between my sandwich when my back was turned and I came crying to her. She always said, “We came from the ground and that we would go back to the ground so the ground would make us stronger.” She also survived the Great Depression, living in a tent in the Dust Bowl of Arizona after her mother died, so I don’t doubt her. This got me thinking about dirt and how it’s made, which made me think about composting, and how I used to be afraid to compost.