Thursday, April 10, 2008

Worm Bins

On April 2nd the Chicken and I attended a worm-bin workshop held by the Lower East Side Ecology Center (LESEC). We started composting last year, and our Alphabet City neighborhood has made it quite easy. There’s a garden next door, which allows us, when open, to drop off our bags of food waste. The LESEC has a drop-off bin at the Union Square Farmer’s Market every Monday, Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday; and has a garden on 7th between Avenue B and C, which provides 24-hour drop-off service—though at times we’ve allowed our bag of compost to become so big, I’ve had to slowly maneuver the bulk through the iron gate into the waiting bucket. I have, however, preferred those moments to those when I see the gate open and know I have to rip open the bags to empty the refuse into the allotted cans. My fear is normally greater than necessary because I’ve yet to get grossness on my hands, but, nonetheless, there’s something about it that freaks me out. Maybe it goes back to my memories of being afraid of washing the dishes because of the wet food waiting in the sink. But there’s no need to get too psychoanalytical at the moment.

The worms. We had thought about buying the bin earlier, but we discovered that by attending the workshop, we could buy it for a thirty-five dollar price reduction. So I waited for almost a month, and like a boy with a project, I thought about all the fun I could have watching the worms turn our food and paper into usable soil. I couldn’t wait. A friend was going to join us, and I expected we might be the only ones in attendance, but when we arrived at the 58th Street Library (between Park and Lexington), there was a line out of the room. There were approximately 50 people, and we spent the next hour listening to our young host explain to us some of the basic science behind the bin and how to set one up.

It’s possible to build one on your own, and there are instructions online, but the main ingredients are sufficient air holes, damp bedding (our host made clear numerous times that it should not be too wet), a pound of red-wiggler worms, and food. The structure could be made of wood or plastic; one lady mentioned that she had a bin she’d built from an old drawer found on the street. Compost rules apply for the food: nothing oily, no meat, and some suggest no bread. Those regulations are mainly in place to eliminate smells, thus staving pests. Our host suggested that experiments with some of the aforementioned items might work, but it was up to the individual to determine how their bin best functions. One important point she made was a tip on limiting the number of fruit flies—these pests live in the skin of tropical fruits and she recommended putting the skins in the freezer or in the microwave, for one minute, in order to kill the larvae.

The Chicken is more practical than I am, and as the workshop progressed I could tell she was becoming less interested. As on cue she then turned and expressed her worry that the bin might be unnecessary if compost areas were so readily available; plus, she added, the soil produced by the red-wigglers is so rich in nutrients it should only be mixed with regular soil or placed as an inch of topsoil twice a year. We only have so many houseplants, and the wigglers, after three months, will turn the whole bin into compost. What would we do with it? The LESEC said we could drop it off with them, and I suggested we give it away as Christmas presents, but the Chicken wasn’t convinced. I was crushed like a schoolboy losing his recess. I understood everything she was saying, but I was intrigued by not only the fun factor of playing with worms, but with the prospect of watching the process. I walked away without a bin and feeling rejected. The LESEC will still offer me the discounted price if I tell them I was at the workshop, but now I am stuck thinking about it.

Is it worth it? Does buying a bin actually contribute to our waste reduction? We talked about it later, and we recognized that we were approaching the subject in two ways. Orginally the Chicken was interested because she thought owning a worm bin was about simplifying the rpocess, but when she realized the the LESEC has their own worm bins, the notion of dropping of the finished compost seemed redundant. But for me I was looking for the experience of the process, to see what happens to our waste, to be connected to that which so many throw into the trash. Plus it seemed crazy (good) to have a bin full of worms in an apartment in New York City. At least a dozen people walked away from the workshop with bins, so they must have felt the same. For now we wait and see if I’ll be wiggling soon.

LESEC Website: http://www.lesecologycenter.org

Bag O' Bags

In every country, state, city, house, and apartment where I have lived, bags have followed me. I do my best to follow all the rules of waste reduction, and try to recycle everything I can, but, until I moved to New York City, I always drove to the grocery store, which promoted large shopping sprees, instead of buying what I needed for the day or evening meal. I attempted to bring my own bags, on occasion, but I often forgot because I kept them in a larger plastic bag under the sink. Often my cache of plastic bags became so great that by the time I moved, I didn’t know what to do. Some grocery stores have recycling bins out front, but I was always suspicious of where they were actually going; it’s just too easy for them to be thrown in the trash. One time, when I was moving from Salt Lake City to Las Vegas, I left the bag o’ bags under the sink thinking the new tenants would be able to use them—perhaps I was just passing on my burden—but the landlord didn’t leave them and instead deducted forty dollars from my security deposit for their removal.

So I had to find other ways of reusing them. When I swam, I could tie up my wet gear in a plastic bag, and since the chlorine was so strong I’d have to throw it away afterwards. I carried lunches in my bags, but would often return home with them and put them back under the sink. I used them for my bathroom trashcan and the recycling, which helped eliminate quite a few, but was I really reusing these bags to their greatest potential, and whether I threw away a plastic bag after using it once, twice, or a dozen times, was it still destined to sit in a landfill longer than my lifespan?


The key is to eliminate using disposable bags all together, but that has not been easy, especially in New York. I have noticed since moving here that people tend to carry many things on their commute, and it’s not strange to see someone walking with three bags full of stuff. Without the convenience of a car, one must be prepared for everything, which, for us, means carrying bags for groceries and such at all times. Both the Chicken and I have a few plastic bags we keep with us, but it’s harder to always have a canvas bag on hand, so we often buy smaller servings of groceries or wait until we get home, and then venture out again. At least we’re getting more exercise.

I do see the original inventory shrinking, but it’s been almost two months, and it’s not going as quickly as I’d like.