Love Means Rotting Leaves!

My wonderful husband built me a compost bin today!

We went to our local salvage yard, where they give away old pallets, and got five of them.  A couple of packages of L-shaped brackets did the trick for connecting and securing them, and one of the pallets he cut in order to put in the little leaf-retaining knee wall I wanted.  Our winds can be so bad here that I thought it best to try and keep the compost *in* the compost bin.

The pallets already had the perfect spacing between the slats that would hold the leaves, yet allow enough air circulation so they can break down.

Now to load the thing with the half billion tons of leaves that blew across town to collect in MY yard.  I expect to be able to mulch my roses in a few months with the stuff, so my hubby gave me roses for Valentines Day, just in a roundabout way!

By the way, every time he builds something, his 30+ years of building things for a living leaps to the fore.

'This thing isn't level!'
'Honey, it's a compost bin made from old pallets, which aren't anything great to begin with.  It's gonna hold rotting leaves, it doesn't have to be perfect.'
'YES IT DOES.'
'The leaves don't care.  The chickens will be the only ones besides us who see it, they don't care.'
'I'LL see it.  It'll drive me bug shit.'
'Just avert your eyes when you walk by it!'
'I'LL KNOW IT'S THERE.'

*Sigh...*
All I know is it's nice and strong and will do what it's supposed to do and I'm thrilled with the thing.  Now for me and the kid to run back and forth with wheelbarrowloads of leaves.  The chickens, of course, were in agony on the other side of the fence, because they could only provide Chicken Supervision from afar and were simply about to die of curiosity.

Also, Spring is coming and my dog is quite the little hippie and needs to be de-shaggyfied.

The kid and I gave her a bath the other day and combed about 40 pounds of loose fur out of her, but she's gonna need her annual clipping soon, probably by the end of the month.

Meanwhile I'll have to trim her face up here and there so she can do things like see and eat.

As I told her this, the chickens sat on the other side of the fence looking superior...I just reminded them that Spring *also* means chicken butt shaving, because SOME of the fluffier butts aren't quite performing their poop curtsies effectively enough and are ending up with soiled butt feathers.  That and they need a certain amount of trimming to ensure fertile eggs come Chickam time...

So don't look so smug, girls!