Worm Composting Blog

Throughout history there have been legendary figures who’ve earned their chapter by inspiring People. When I use the term People, I’m not referring to political parties, big corporations or religious organizations. I’m talking about the uninfluenced individual. The natural being inside all of us that likes and dislikes things on their own terms. The People are the largest most powerful group on the planet and they’re a tough crowd to win over. Timber Jim was an icon for the People.

Someone pointed up into the rafters, “he’s got the drum!” We turned and looked up and pumped our fists to the beat of Timber Jim’s drum. The energy was seductive and persuaded me to turn towards the field and, in a moment I will never forget, the Timbers broke down a wide open field, shot and scored the game’s only goal to beat Puerto Rico on Timber Jim’s retirement night.

Did he make that goal happen? Yes, he did. I believe he did. How did he know to walk past the visitors bench and rev his chainsaw as the Puerto Rican coach was having a spat with the ref? Did he know that the coach turned and dropped an F bomb towards his back? He knew. Will the People ever forget Jim? They won’t.

There are Timber Jims in every city. They are the leaders of the People. They don’t wish to be leaders. They captivate the People and that is what makes them so great. Writing this post reminded me of Wally the Beerman. The Twin Cities’ legendary beer vendor. I tried to find a good biographical page on Wally McNeil to link with, but nothing of the sort exists. I was frustrated at first but then I realized that a legend of the People needs no media. The People are sharing stories about Timber Jim and Wally the Beerman right now and they will for many years to come.

The photos I’ve included are from the photographers of Flickr.com, where there are many more pics of Timber Jim. Thank you for sharing these great photos.

Free composting! The Portland International Airport and the surrounding businesses have been composting food waste for years. They now have so much excess compost that they are giving it away today to travelers passing through the Portland airport. The composting project has been implemented by Port of Portland and it has been a huge success. I’m not sure if you can drive out to pick some up but I will be looking into it later today.

Related Articles:
Office of Sustainable Development
KOIN News

“You can make a worm eat, but you cannot lead it to food.”

“Give a worm a fish and he will eat for a year. Teach a worm to fish and he will be impaled with a fish hook.”

My dream of thousands of worms happily marching from one pile to another did not fruit. I left the worm piles for three days and although there was a large portion of worms using the bridge, it may have taken years for them all to cross. Many of the worms were still gathered in the far corner of the castings.

Here is what I learned:

As noted in several worm composting resources, worms will not eat uncrushed egg shells. They do however like to use the shells as sex lairs. I found several pairs of worms attached (doing it) along the linings of these shells. I also found a larger concentration of worm eggs and baby worms in the egg shells.

The leftovers included these egg shells along with avocado seeds, avocado skins, mango seeds, pumpkin seeds, squash stems, and produce sticker labels. I tried to remove the stickers but 3 or 4 entered the bin anyway. I look forward to a day when we don’t need stickers to tell us where something is from or how much it costs, but until then I would prefer tattooed fruit. There were also a handful of what I believe to be dead grubs. Possibly killed by the winter freezes.

I was hesitant to get my hands in there to separate the worms, but once I did I found it to be as natural as…as…nature. It reminded me of the nightcrawler containers I would fish with as a child. The castings were a rich humus soil. There was no foul smell. Everything was fresh and there was a green seedling that somehow started to grow despite the lack of sunlight. I was surprised to see the giant disk of a naked mango seed. I thought back to the hundreds of pounds of vegetable and fruit scraps I had added to the bin and was amazed at the product the worms returned. I’ve separated the castings into a bucket and I plan to leave them for a month or so to see how many new worms may be born from the eggs I was unable to separate.

I also felt a closer connection to the worms, possibly influenced by my current reading material: “A Language Older than Words” by Derrick Jensen. It is a very interesting perspective on humans’ separation from the rest of the world and how we continue to create a facade in which to deny the rest of the natural worlds importance so we can consume without consequence. The central theme is how it is possible to communicate with nature, such as asking coyotes not to eat your chickens. It’s a good mix of history, science, religion and the authors own insights. Similar to worm composting, this book is not for those with a weak stomach.

285 days from the worms first meal we finally made it to separation day. I had about a half foot of rich casting soil in the worm bin and have not added new food for over a month. I am especially surprised at the amount of mature worm eggs in the bin. It seems there are 3 or 4 eggs per square inch. Each egg can hatch 4-20 new worms.

The plan is to Form two piles on a tarp. One pile of fresh rotting food topped with juicer fiber (Watch for a Jack LaLanne Juicer post in the future), and one pile of the worm bin castings.

I made a bridge of dirt and food between the two piles and shaded it with avocado skins. The worms are to migrate from the food deprived castings to the colorful buffet of rotting fruit and vegetable fiber.

…to be continued…

I thought bull fights were only on Sundays, and therefore assumed I would not be able to attend one on my visit to Puerto Vallarta. However, on our way to Dolphin Adventure I noticed a stadium with a sign that said Bullfighting 5 pm Miercoles. It just so happened to be Miercoles and the stadium was a short bus ride from our hotel. It was an amazing series of fights and although the matadors follow the same order of weapon attacks in each fight, the fights always unfolded differently. This included a few times when the toreadors were hit and injured by the bulls. I’m neither pro nor against bullfighting. I think the sport can be very disturbing no matter whether you are empathizing with the bull or the human. Some fans were yelling “Kill the Human!” In fact, I would say the majority of the audience sided with the bulls and the greatest thrills in the crowd came when the toreadors were compromised. I was amazed by the athleticism and determination and bravery from both parties. And it was incredible to be so close to such a carnal event. Here are some pics and a video set to the tune of “Spanish Death” by The Builders And The Butchers of Portland Oregon who were recently featured at SXSW.

I think tiger worms is the most appropriate, but if I were given the honor of naming this fine group of Americans I would go with Honorable Guest Worms.

A popular question when determining one’s personality is the standard, “If you could have dinner with anyone, who would it be?” Personally, I would opt for buffet style with all of my family and friends. However, if I thought long enough about this question, I would be inclined to invite the Honorable Guest Worms. Being an experimental cook, I know they will eat whatever I prepare. No need to break out the fine china for these food purists, and no dishes to follow the meal. In fact, they will finish the leftovers weeks later without a sigh of “meat loaf again?” I could entertain them with my unsubstantiated philosophies on life. They may not have ears or an understanding of my language, but their zenness will be the perfect rebuttal to my chaos string theories. And if the conversation grows stale, I can hire a cab for all 2,638 of us for the price of one. And what a conversation starter! “Is that a big box of worms?” “yes.” “Can I buy you a drink?” “yes.” I think you get the picture.

It has been an adventure touring with the hottest rock band in Portland. From James’s Basement to the Red Room and most recently to the farthest outskirts of Portland. Few bands can win over a crowd of blue collar heroes and their women, who have not left the video poker machine since the 80’s (evident by their hairdos and denim). And at the same time keep it fresh for their frantic followers. This is what separates Gas Lanyard from the cookie cutter indie bands that are popping up like English Ivy and suffocating the flowers that pollinate Portland’s cross sections. One such flower, was a 70 year old man so invigorated by The Lanyard that he got up and started shaking his booty with girls a third of his age. Maybe the old man and his buddy “Purple shirt mustache toupee” were popping Viagra in the parking lot, but I believe that Gas Lanyard provided the aural stimulation that got them aroused off their barstools. Ali Ippolito once again joined the Gas Men for this historic rockout and the whole thing ended with Dean-o sputtering out a pulmonary failing solo to it’s death. We’re just glad it was the solo and not the old horny guy.

And neither are the worm’s. They just keep eating. I’ve come to realize that worms are nothing more than lengths of intestine. They are the equivalent of my small intestine chopped up into hundreds of two inch bits. This way they are able to eat faster. Where I could only eat a bacon cheeseburger one bite at a time (preferably cut in half and bitten from the corner), they can attack a burger from all sides at the same time. While 40 worms are nibbling the end of a strip of bacon another 300 are tearing through the sourdough bun. And they don’t fight over who gets what, they work as a team. The onion worms won’t be crying about their place in dine, not because they don’t have eyes but because…well, actually yes because they don’t have eyes. I’ve come to respect my worms as a second stomach and I’ve been conscious of what I am feeding them which in turn makes me double conscious of what I am feeding myself.

Every December Portland hosts it’s very own SantaCon. This event is an international phenomenon involving the culmination of mass santas who take to the streets to do all of the naughty things that Santa himself would shun. Portland’s Cacophony Society has been organizing the event along with many other bizarre and quirky parties, such as Mondo Croquet. Here’s a video to give you an idea, set to the tune of Come On! Let’s Boogey to the Elf Dance! by Sufjan Stevens.

A little over a year ago I was introduced to the moustache mug by way of Oregon Wild Hair Moustache Wax. A couple of my friends were so enthralled by this product that they bought the gift set including moustache wax and a mug (neither of them had moustaches at the time nor do they now). Then nearly a year later I was touring the Minnesota Historical Society and was dumbstruck to find a moustache mug from, I believe, the 1800’s. It was well cared for and the exhibit showed a price of $4.50. A considerable investment for it’s day. Oregon Wild Hair provides a much better deal on a more basic mug, however they appear to be currently out of stock, but if you are interested in one please contact them via their website. For the time being here is a link to moustache mugs on eBay.