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.
