Backyard Alchemy

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As a mystic, alchemy – as traditionally defined and conceived of – isn’t really my cup of tea. Plenty of time, money and space required. Neither the riches of gold nor the promise of corporeal immortality turn my crank. I did, however, have a good time researching alchemy for a Renaissance humanities course that I took back in my Bachelor of Arts days: digging through reproductions of texts from the period and surprising my professor with some of my findings and interpretations. I also respect the immense contribution that alchemy made to the fledgling science of chemistry: basically, the sign on the door of the laboratory was changed and all that occult “mumbo-jumbo” was washed down the sink, but otherwise everything else was kept: “thanks, alchemy” quoth the scientists, “now keep huddled in the corner while we the new priesthood of scientists burn your books and discredit you!”

Now I’ll let you in on a “dirty” little secret: I participate in alchemy once a week, every week, year-round! Right in my backyard, too. No mouldy old texts; no special robes; no elaborate system of burners, bottles, condensing coils, and mortars-and-pestles; not even a fellow human being involved! But I am far from alone in these alchemical experiments: no, I am merely one participant among innumerable participants.

What the devil am I rambling about? Why, composting, of course!

Yes, composting: that strange ritual that has been practiced by farmers for millennia all over the world, and more recently by odd urbanites.

So, why do I refer to composting as backyard alchemy? At the most manifest level, it is because the process of composting transforms the “lead” of disposable organic material (kitchen scraps, leaves, and such) into the “gold” of sweet-smelling, nutrient rich, worm-riddled humus which is far better than any organic fertilizer that I can buy at a garden centre! All at virtually no cost and minimal labour.  And my garden plants absolutely love it.

For those who are not familiar with composting, it is at the most basic a way of giving Nature a helping hand in doing what it does naturally. There are some simple rules that need to be followed, such as avoid using meat or cooked food; mix “green” organic matter (which is rich in nitrogen) with “brown” organic matter (which is rich in carbon) in the roughly appropriate proportion; make sure that the material is about as damp as a wet sponge; and encourage aeration via the occasional stir. In essence, one makes an inviting residence and feast for all sorts of organisms that specialize in decomposition: bacteria, mould, protozoans, worms, millipedes and all sorts of other “creepy crawlies”. Each organism has its own role to play in the decomposition process and its own time to be active. I’m not going to get all “sciency” on the details here, though I could write several pages if I felt so inclined. The point is that, with human help, lots of little critters can be happy and well-fed in the compost heap and eventually they produce a complex organic product that is great natural, organic, food for plants.

Some people get all high-tech and competitive in the composting process. Sure, there are lots of gizmos on the market. And some people pride themselves on making final humus in as little of three weeks (in a temperate climate, at that!). Well, I guess that I’m kinda cheap and kinda lazy. Because I am happy to produce my own bins out of inexpensive lumber and a bit of chicken wire and am satisfied to have a final product after six months to a year of “cooking” with as little effort as necessary. Also, I figure that a slower process is more in harmony with nature’s rhythm, which to me is a big plus. 

The other thing that I consider to be “alchemical” about composting is the conditions that enable the decomposition process to occur. Nature tends to be quite flexible and can do its work even under far-from-ideal conditions. Just the same, certain conditions are needed, and they can’t be way out of whack. I see it as being a balance among the four classical elements.

Earth: the physical material in the pile. This is the element in which the transformation from intact vegetative material to humus occurs. For the best quality humus, a mix of about 30% “greens” and 70% “browns” is needed. Also, a wide variety of “inputs” help to ensure that the humus has a good mix of nutrients. In theory, one can compost a combination of green grass clippings and oak leaves, but the humus so produced will inevitably be high in certain elements and low in other elements which could be beneficial to vegetable plant growth. So, both quantity and quality are important.

Water: the moisture content of the pile. In order for the little critters of the compost heap to thrive, they need sufficient moisture. Again, a balance is important: too dry a pile and the bacteria and fungi will be absent; too moist a pile and anaerobic decomposition (which results in a sewer smell) happens. And the hotter the weather (or the pile) the more moisture is needed.

Air: the breath of life. Our friends the bacteria, the fungi and all the “creepy crawlies” require oxygen to do their decomposition work. It is hard to get too much air, but too little is disastrous (anaerobic bacteria take over – yuck!). So, turning the pile occasionally is helpful, as well as preventing leaves from clumping into each other in big wet mats. Some composters like to mix in straw in their compost piles to increase the aeriation, but I have managed to do well without going out of my way to purchase straw.

Fire: both external and internal. In a temperate climate, composting is affected a fair bit by the season. Although even in the depths of the Canadian winter my compost piles continue to shrink in size and sometimes emit steam – showing biological activity – the process only goes into high gear in the summer. Bacteria love the heat, and as the front line of critters in the decomposition process, the more the heap is in bacteria’s comfort zone, the faster the process. The internal fire is what the bacteria themselves produce. A well-made compost heap will have internal temperatures above 130 degrees Fahrenheit (about 55 degrees Celsius), which is great because at that temperature pathogens and weed seeds get destroyed. But to get the “fire” in the pile, one needs to have the right balance of air, water and earth established.

I even see the alchemical principle “solve et coagula” (literally "dissolve and coagulate" – meaning that a substance must be broken down before it can be built up into something new) applies to composting. At the start of the process, we have visibly distinct components of the compost “inputs” (old leaves, banana peels, orange peels, tea leaves, etc., and a bit of old compost as “culture”) which, if applied directly to a garden bed, will accomplish precious little to help the growing vegetables at least in the short-term. But leave the compost critters to do their work and the distinct components are torn (solve) asunder almost at the molecular level by the series of organisms that feast upon the buffet that has been provided to them. At the end of the process, virtually all of the organic material has passed through the gut of worms, producing a final product that in no way physically resembles the original inputs, but biochemically is pretty much the same as the inputs (coagula) – except that it has been reformulated in a way that enables the roots of the garden vegetables can quickly and easily absorb it.

Now, of course, those who have more than a superficial understanding of alchemy are aware that the inner transformation of the alchemist is what is being striven for: despite all the real experiments and physical paraphernalia, alchemy itself is an elaborate process of spiritual development. This, too, I see as being true regarding composting – though I admit that, at least in my experience, this process does not necessarily involve a clear sequence of stages (or if the stages exist, I am blind to them). For me, whenever I participate in compost-related activities, I seek an inner balance among the four “elements” within myself (body, life force, mind, and self-awareness). I also feel that, even in a small way, I am participating in the elaborate dance of universal biological processes and feel a kind of unity with it: I am “one with the compost pile” so to speak.

My weekly composting “ritual” is a special time in which I can contemplate the process that I am deliberately engaging in and am “merging” in, albeit briefly. One of my mottos is “hands in society; head in the forest” (the forest being the abode of hermits who are contemplating the Divine and are far from the madding crowd not only physically but mentally). I feel that while composting I am actually doing that – though the “society” that I have my hands in (literally) is non-human – while my mind contemplates the wonder of natural cycles and processes and how it all relates to myself and everything around me.

Composting may not be for everyone: either for reasons of not being a gardener or the “ick factor” (which I have never understood; then again, I spent a fair bit of my early teens shovelling fresh pig manure – maybe that has something to do with it). And maybe not everyone who composts find it a spiritually elevating experience. But I do; and I am happy that I can, in my own small way, participate in the original alchemy: that performed by Mother Nature herself.