Living with a Compost Toilet

      Anyone who owns a house, farms, or raises a garden faces numerous seasonal chores that must be done when the weather is right.

      One task on our list is found on few others: cleaning out the compost toilet. It's an onerous task because of the design of our house as much as for the task itself, a flaw we can blame on no one but ourselves. Most other households with a year-round compost toilet (c.t.) have a basement, making access to the heart of the operation much easier. Since we don't have a basement, one of us must slither down into a pit under the bathroom floor we dug just big enough to hold the big c.t. “container” and an anorexic elf. My tall, slender husband assumes that acrobatic task while I hover above hooking hoses and running “honey buckets” to the outdoor finishing compost hole.

Downstairs c.t.

     It's outdoors where, in one last frenetic orgy, fat worms who've traveled in said buckets gorge themselves into oblivion, expiring in their own castings (a.k.a. “poop”). The final result the following year is a rich compost my flowers and ornamental plants love.

      The worms end up serving a much higher purpose than we larger mortals do. Upon death they are recycled into soil and nutrients, then are absorbed into flowers and plants. The seasonal process is repeated ad infinitum. It begs the question: why don't humans do the same? We are beginning to through “green burials” - a fascinating topic, but for another blog.

      Human waste, once used as fertilizer (called night soil, and still is used in some places) is treated in the U.S. as something from which we must be protected. In fact, the more advanced the culture, the more its human waste is likely to be managed right out of usefulness. There are, of course, good reasons for caution – fatal infectious diseases not being the least of them. As often happens, though, in our attempt to control the nature that sustains us, we go overboard and squeeze a link in the chain too tight. We fail to see ourselves as part of the greater cycle.

Upstairs c.t.

    Flush toilets and municipal sanitation systems are one example. That's not to say I think they should be done away with altogether. Compost toilets would be impractical, and probably unhealthy, in hospitals or large public or commercial buildings. But, as more people recycle their own kitchen, yard and garden waste through compost piles, those who wish to take their household cycle a step further should be encouraged to do so through compost toilets.

      In fact, the current drought may encourage more people to consider them. When we built our house and installed our c.t. about 35 years ago, they were very rare, though I've heard of at least a couple of others in our community. Today, you can find them at big box stores or via the internet, from little ones intended for occasional use in summer cabins to permanent year-round ones like ours. The better ones are fashioned after the Clivus Multrum . Ours was designed and built by a fellow in Cottage Grove and I remember heads turning in vehicles passing me and seeing people pointing and mouthing “What's that??” as I brought it home in the back of our pick-up. It looked like a little tugboat.

      An old-fashioned flush toilet can use anywhere from 5 to 7 gallons of water per flush (gpf). And when the plug doesn't descend correctly, water can run continuously, especially when no one is around to hear it. Newer ones, especially those with EPA WaterSense certification sip as little as 1.6 gpf. Some of the newer models I've experienced work well, especially those where you can choose a lighter or heavier flush, and others not so much. In fact, it often requires more than one flush to complete the task. Not very efficient.

      Compost toilets are not for everyone. I knew that even before we installed ours. Guests' reactions range from carefully avoiding the need to use it (perhaps thinking we race in as soon as they leave to see what they “did”) to thinking out-loud how they could include one in their own house.

     I used to worry what people would think of it. Now, I wonder if they worry what I think when pressed to employ the flush version in their homes.

     Yes, the c.t. can be odoriferous on occasion. A fan solves the problem. A solar-activated one serves during daylight, otherwise we start it with a manual switch when needed. Also, we sprinkle peat moss in regularly, especially when a “flush” would be appropriate.

     The greatest smell comes during the clean-out, naturally. People who wrinkle their noses at the thought might do well to consider that their own”waste” stinks too, but they make it disappear by flushing it. Rarely do we give thought to where it goes from there. A visit to the municipal water treatment plant would be enlightening.

     Toilet compost is supposed to be safe for use on your vegetable garden, but even I am reluctant to do so. Besides, we have enough kitchen/garden compost for that. Instead, the c.t. compost feeds our abundant landscape.

Some of the flowers and ornamentals that love c.t. compost

If you've considered installing one, you have far more information and choices available than we did way back when and I encourage you to at least read about them. For years, I had a nagging feeling we were a bit “backward” having an indoor-outhouse and have heard all the jokes, thank you. Now, with people more aware of resources and our environment, it feels like we might have been ahead of our time. Who knows. At least we can feel good about the bazillion gallons of water we've not used over three and a half decades.

Before Dawn at the Farmers' Market

    The full moon glinted off neat rows of black ground cover and added ghostly illumination to dozens of white greenhouses as I arrived at Tom Denison and Elizabeth Kerle's farm at 3:30 a.m. The market truck was loaded and ready to head to Beaverton's first summer farmers' market (they'd done six winter ones between February and March). Tom and I climbed up into the truck cab and headed out. Elizabeth, a licensed acupuncturist in Corvallis, would be in a training in Eugene all day. Normally, she'd be working the Corvallis Saturday market, which she organizes, along with those in Salem and McMinnville.
     The  moon tagged along on the inky horizon as Tom drove, but was blotted by street lights when we arrived at the market site (a public parking lot across from the library, next to a park) about 5:30 a.m. We were the second truck to arrive. Tom jumped out of his cab to visit with the couple in the other truck. The friendship cultivated over decades of such mornings was evident in the easy banter, teasing, laughter and discussions of topics only a farmer could understand.
     Shortly, an army of similar trucks appeared from the empty streets, seemingly out of nowhere, but actually from the Willamette Valley and as far away as the coast, eastern Oregon and eastern Washington. The circle of visiting farmers grew as people emerged from the trucks, hugged and caught up on news. Few trucks had logos, but everyone seemed to know which one belonged to whom as it pulled in.
     The two women managers gave the signal and everyone eased into their spots to begin set-up and unloading. Tom quipped that one of the managers, Ginger, was perfectly qualified for the job. "She has degrees in food science and primate behavior," he said.
     As magically and quietly as the army of trucks appeared, so did Tom's Beaverton market crew, right on time. All live in the greater Portland area and arrive by a smorgasbord of transportation, from bike, bus/skateboard, zip car or their own. Some carpool. Most have been with Tom three years or more; one, Regina, lived and worked on Tom's farm when she was in school and served as a nanny for their son. You'd be hard pressed to find a nicer group of young people. They obviously enjoy the work and each other and love the food they are surrounded by most of the day. Their resulting healthy diets contribute to their constant energy doing set-up, moving heavy totes and equipment and taking everything down at the end of the day.
   The word "choreography" came to mind as the canopy posts were pulled from the truck and laid out, then connected, the canopy draped over the top, and all hoisted, appropriately enough, like an old-fashioned barn-raising. Tables came out next and arranged with frequent glances at the map Tom had prepared for their placement and what they'd hold. Occasionally a crew member would suggest something different. The respect Tom gives their ideas, usually agreeing with them, proves the quality of the team is as high as that of the produce they'll be selling within a couple of hours.

Joie and Chris set up by street lamp and the hint of sunrise.

     
    Once the tables are in place, displays are built up with empty totes, boards and fresh tablecloths.  As totes are opened and mounds of produce mushroom, you'd swear it's mid-summer by the aromas of strawberries, basil, garlic and young bunched onions. Those without such enticing aromas make up for it with bold colors: carrots, red onions, peas, chard with colorful stems, lettuces as big as your head, sweet onions the size of baseballs, deep green zucchini (yes, zucchini and strawberries in early May! Remember those greenhouses illuminated by the moonlight?) and muscular fava beans.

Vyasa creates some signs

 Some of the crew have artistic talents, showing not only in the gorgeous displays they create, but the excellent blackboard signs they do each week, according to what's available. Perfectly legible - an amazing feat in this age of daily keyboards!

Joie "supervises" Jakob and Vyasa's sign work

 
     At 8:00 sharp, someone walks through the aisles, ringing a bell to indicate the market is officially open. Within seconds the first transactions are completed by eager customers. At the Denison Farms booth, the mounds shrink as produce flies to the cashiers, then into myriad types of shopping bags and baskets.
     Tom's agile crew deftly restocks and also morph into cordial booth hosts and cashiers, gladly sharing their knowledge of the produce and how to prepare it. Some farm themselves, others garden and/or work in produce departments. They know their stuff because they eat it themselves. Every day. They love to trade or buy from other vendors throughout the day. Many enjoy lunch from a Lebanese vendor, Kombucha from another. Around noon, Regina offered me one of Tom's carrots to scoop in some goat chevre she'd traded with a nearby vendor. I honestly couldn't tell which was better - the sweet crunchy carrot or the cheese. Each complemented the other perfectly; the result was better than anything you'd get in a 5-star restaurant. Sublime sweat equity!

Produce about to do a disappearing act. David in background.

Vyasa, Jakob & Joie making signs in background

       Not surprisingly, nary a single berry made the return trip to Denison Farms. However, plenty of customers vowed they'd be at the market much earlier next week.
     The aroma alone of these berries, originally domesticated in France, now bred in the U.S., would win an arm-wrestle with the huge, red ones in supermarkets. And I mean comparing just the aroma of these to the taste of those!







                                                                                
                                                              

Just before the market opens... Laura, Jakob & Regina in background

  If you don't recognize fresh onions, you'd better get out of the kitchen...

   Did I mention radishes?? Long red and white French Breakfast type, perfect additions to salads from those huge heads of flavorful lettuce, some sweet carrots, fresh peas...

...and chard, kale, spinach, favas. There's your big-bowl main course. A vendor down the way sold bleu-cheese dressing. Artisan breads and goat cheese in the next aisle. Strawberries, of course, right here, for your favorite form of dessert.  There was also beef, lamb, buffalo meat, seafood, eggs, fresh pasta, coffee beans, gelato, baked goods galore, herbs, chocolate and much more. Who said you can't eat well on a local diet?

Tom glances at display while chatting with his berry box supplier (in red shirt, with crutches

Tom Denison (on right, with salt-&-pepper beard) mingles with customers, answering questions. It's one of his favorite parts of farmers' markets. He says he's learned a lot from them over 37 years of farming.

Customer, Phillip & Chris sweeping, Regina in maroon shirt

 


 All good things must come to an end. At 1:30 someone comes through the aisles ringing the same bell that marked the start of the market, calling an end to it. Some of the remaining produce went to gleaners. Carrot tops customers had requested be removed when they bought bunches go to people who stop by to gather them for their livestock. One was a woman who rescues abandoned and abused farm animals. The rest of the scraps will become compost, including what's being swept up here.

Tom disconnects poles while talking with member of Tualitin Valley Gleaners

 The canopy comes down as gracefully as it went up, though the muscles involved are a bit more tired by now. Still, everyone is energized by another successful market day and looks forward to seeing each other again next Saturday.
    Gleaners arrive to take totes of produce to the Senior Center two blocks away. It will be distributed to people in need within 15 minutes of leaving the market.

The stashes accrued by the crew throughout the market await their journeys home in the shade of the truck. Moments after it's collected and everyone bids farewell, Tom backs out to face much heavier traffic and bright sun heating the trip home. He stops for diesel in Albany and unloads the truck once back at the farm. Evenings after the market, he relaxes by playing with his semi-pro table tennis friends. "It feels surprisingly good," he said. "We're not meant to be sitting in a truck for long periods. The game gets my body moving and my mind in a different place after a long day. And it's fun!"

Two Corvallis Community Gardens

    Though we have a big garden at home, the forest around it has stretched taller each year, creating more shade, making less of it usable. Also, since it's in the foothills of the Coast Range, it's a bit cooler up here than in Corvallis. Then, symphylans (the unfair "reward" for treating your soil right) hit, requiring us to leave plots fallow each year to discourage them. Little buggers. Hence, I've had plots in community gardens in town for some of the crops that like hot weather and don't need to be harvested daily (eggplants, potatoes, storage onions, peppers, drying beans, winter squash).

Dunawi Creek community garden at peak season

  I had a plot at the Corvallis Environmental Center's  Dunawi Creek community garden at Starker Arts Park for a few years, but gave it up. The micro-climate there is different from the community garden at Calvin Presbyterian church where my current plot is. Dunawi is at the edge of town and on a hill. It gets a lot more wind in the afternoon. You can see (and feel) the weather coming from the west.



  I've had a plot at Calvin Presbyterian Church's community garden for maybe 6 or 7 years. The garden is surrounded on three sides by sidewalks and streets, absorbing and reflecting more heat than at Dunawi. And there's less wind; it's a bit more protected by buildings, though it's right across from two big, park-like open areas between two schools.
     Community gardens are like potlucks, in more ways than one. Plots are the same size and many of the same plants are found in each (tomatoes, peppers, peas, etc.), but each is very different from its neighbor. It's fascinating to see how the same "ingredients" result in a completely different plot. Some are very neat and tidy, artfully planted. Others are a messy mass, jam-packed with vegetables or flowers (or a mix). Some are choked with weeds (strongly discouraged by our faithful coordinator, Doug! And fellow gardeners who will inherit the weed seeds eventually).
      A neighborhood cat patrols the place, picking favorite sunny spots for a nap. She's a snuggle-puss sometimes, but crosses the line to biting fairly quickly. She loves to chase bugs and peruse her domain. People don't seem to bother her - she's not afraid of them, just annoyed (she is a cat, after all).
     The people are another "potluck" all together. We come in all ages, shapes, nationalities, races, personalities and humors (or not). Some like to visit with fellow gardeners, ask questions, share their bounty. Others prefer to keep to themselves. Some grow for their families and friends, others for food banks and shut-ins - or all of the above. There are several young families involved who bring their kids to "help." I'm not the only country person who has a plot in town.
     We have rules about treating others' spaces with respect, turning the water off and on, keeping our plots weeded, gently reminding poachers that community garden doesn't mean the contents are for anyone off the street. Almost everyone has arrived to find the eggplant or broccoli they were going to harvest  that day was swiped in the night. It's a bummer. So are the deer who munch their way through. They especially love peas and beans.
    Here are some photos from last week. I'll post more as the season progresses. It's amazing how the walkways shrink as the gardens grow. By August - September, for sure - it's impossible to walk through without your legs being scratched or tickled. What a beautiful a sight it is, though. So much prettier and productive than a parking lot, or even another building. Friendships are made, skills learned and literal tons of food produced on this former, grassy corner lot.

Note the wide paths and perennial plants

Note the wide paths. That will change. This is one end of my "new" neighbor's plot (she's been gardening here for a few years, but moved to this plot when the previous couple 'turned in their trowels' due to aging bodies. They grew hundreds of pounds of produce for the local soup kitchen each year.) Besides a mix of perennial and annual herbs and greens here, she has some slug traps (slugs always fall--literally--for beer!)

     

 Someone planted a long, lovely raised bed of wild camas. I look forward to meeting them and learning
more about it. Seems a good spot since it's in the shade and not suitable for most popular sun-loving plants. Maybe it's someone who belongs to the Native Plant Society.

     You can always spot a new gardener, especially in spring. After a few warm, summer-like days, they think warm weather has arrived for good and plant tomatoes, peppers, squash and other heat-loving plants without protection. Looks ok here, but they won't grow much with our cold nights. Those planted later, when the weather has settled will do better. Cold stunts--or at least severely delays--tomato development. It's a rude lesson. We've all done something similar. I planted an entire packet of tomato seeds my first year. Talk about a forest of tomatoes!

    Experienced gardener put fences around crops like these gorgeous fava beans. They're one of the favored buffet items for deer and rabbits.

    Here's some seasonal fusion. The Nusrala's spring peas next to the garlic they planted last fall. Mouthwatering to think about the dishes ahead...






      All the dark soil you see is compost from Corvallis Disposal (now Allied Waste). If you're a Corvallis resident who gives them yard debris, thanks!
      More updates to follow. In the meantime, you're welcome to stop by the garden any time. We enjoy visitors. But, please, don't take anything unless it's offered by the gardener her/himself.