Composting is a simple, natural process of decomposing organic matter. What’s organic matter? It’s anything that was once alive: yard waste, food remains, horse manure and so forth.

Composting is not a new idea. It’s been happening in nature, well, I would assume since the ice age (composting doesn’t work when it’s too cold).

This website is my favorite composting resource. They tell you how and why you should compost, what to compost and where to find composting materials.

From the seat by my birdbath, next to the ornamental grasses and bulb garden, I can see almost a block down our street. I see big black bag after big black bag, piled up, 3, 4, even as many as 7 per house. And there are a few, predominantly empty, recycling bins – maybe once every 3 houses.

In front of our house, I see 3 bags of paper recycling, 2 bins of aluminum and glass, one bin of plastic and a tied pile of broken down cardboard next to ONE white bag of garbage. Behind me, I see the compost.

One small bag. My family’s waste for the week is between a sixth and a fourteenth the amount of our neighbors. An avid cook, I’m certain that I’m not starving my family. On the contrary, I would wager a bet that my family is eating better than most of the heavy garbage producers on the block.

One of my favorite family details comes from my mother, Joan, now 59.

For Joan’s 8^th birthday, she was taken to a nursery and instructed to choose any plant she wanted. She chose a night-blooming cereus (also known as an orchid cactus or epiphyllum phyllanthus), a far cry from the daisies she was undoubtedly expected to select. But then, most of my mother’s actions have struck me as somewhat uncharted. This 8 year old wasn’t interested in the common beauty of lilies, roses and so forth, rather, she was attracted to this bizarre creeping cactus with thick waxy stems that flatten into a sort of lobed leaf shape and sprout massive creamy white flowers larger than my fist, which bloom only at night.

What is perhaps equally remarkable is that this very same plant is, to date, alive and well in southern California. And huge! With regular pruning, it stands about 6 feet tall, probably 3 feet across and over 51 years old.

A few years back I took a clipping to start at home. Within a year it produced strange winding shoots that nearly stretched the width of my living room. After introducing 2 wonderful kittens to our home, the new growth became a favored chew toy and the plant had to be given away, but I still regularly request cuttings from my mother – as unique gifts that always become a conversation centerpiece.

There is something so refreshing, so reassuring, so full of renewal about the silky points of foliage poking through the ground. Each year I am amazed to see how much is in bloom while walking around in the brisk air of late March and early April.

Only the strongest flowers are able to tough out this early exposure. The most adored in my family: crocus. Lavendar and purple Crocus tommasinianus and the larger and later blooming Crocus vernus carpet areas around the Peirce-du Pont House.

While my daughter discovered snowdrops again, hyacinth, tulips and daffodils beneath the magnolia trees remind me why winter bulbs have always held such a special place in my garden. And why not? Since, with the right care, these flowers will spread and grow more and more beautiful over time.