by Ann Ripley
Cover-Up: What’s New in Mulch, Manure, and Compost
IS THERE ANYTHING TRULY NEW in compost, manure, and mulch? Yes and no. Various entrepreneurs think so, and market new products all the time. Meantime, home gardeners can be assured that bacteria, fungi, and worms are unfussy: They will go to work on anything they find in the pile, gourmet or not. The action of these microorganisms and small creatures magically transforms “green” nitrogen-rich stuff (plant tops, kitchen vegetable matter, a little horse manure, etc.) and “brown” carbon-rich material (dried leaves, and sticks, hay, or straw) into nutritious, well-balanced meals for our plants.
One can hardly do it wrong: Even the most amateur compost pile, mixed and seasoned a bit, may not look like a brown, rich cake mix, but it still will do the job as well as a mix that does. And magically, it will turn out to have a well-balanced chemical content that is perfect for the garden, a pH of around seven; this is somewhat acidic and good for most plants. The gradual addition of compost, by the way, is the best means for improving alkaline soils.
Worms in the kitchen! Vermiculture is the art of persuading red worms to eat your garbage. Some gardeners even keep their setups—about the size of a backyard grill—in their kitchens, cozy and warm. They feed the worms once a week, and the results are rich dark compost. Do worms smell? Apparently not; the whole process is supposed to be odorless. However, some people’s antipathy to worms might make it worthwhile to place their work station in the garage—or maybe the basement.
No kidding, soil is a science. They say soil is a science, and urban planners are beginning to realize they need to listen to the experts on the subject. Now, they get specific plant “recipes,” a special one for a steep roadside berm that is quite different than the one for a city park. Custom-made topsoil might be laced with sand, compost, and the barley mulch that is the residual of beer making. Sludge, carefully selected to assure it contains no heavy metals, is also a popular soil ingredient. The homeowner might take a leaf from the experts’ book: When laying sod, for instance, nothing is more important for making a successful lawn than that rich layer of soil underneath it. When enriching our garden soil, our eye will tell us some things, but a soil test will tell us even more, about the chemical content, and what it might need to support a thriving batch of plants.
Designer compost—from Seattle, of course. Gourmet compost, aimed, perhaps, at the latte crowd, is produced by a Seattle company, which calls it smoother, better-smelling, and more effective than regular compost. Its cost is almost a third higher. It is a mocha color, surely in tune with the city itself. A crucial ingredient is coffee grounds. Quick-drying and cooling fans to air out the compost are part of its avant-garde production techniques. Its next product will be compost “tea,” which of course is the liquid runoff from the compost piles. Experienced gardeners have expressed some skepticism of this ultracompost, since anyone can do the same, thing in their backyard. But it’s always fun to try a gourmet product, now, isn’t it?
Must we mulch? Mulching is smart, both for the earth’s sake, and your pocketbook’s sake. Water has become an increasingly precious commodity in the United States. Un-mulched or uncomposted gardens gobble up many times as much water, and are less healthy. Mulching moderates temperatures, controls weeds without a lot of labor from the home owner, and reduces water use radically. Encircle your trees and bushes with soaker hoses, and lay them in the gardens, then cover with several inches of mulch.
Gravel—it’s in for the long haul. Gardeners are quietly turning to gravel as mulch. Some like it pink, but others prefer the more natural tans and browns, that blend well with woody stems and remain natural-looking even in winter. This is a mulch that won’t blow away or dry out. It simply stays there through the seasons. Rock gardeners and xeriscape gardeners have long been its advocates.
The animal parade. One gardener, who lives in the wilds of western New Jersey, shares his compost pile with the animals, with the crows, possums, and then raccoons taking their turn, tearing apart the kitchen scraps he puts in the pile, and leaving him with a nicely shredded mixture. Because of bear and Hon foraging, many western gardeners have quit digging any kitchen scraps into an open compost pile—and that’s where vermiculture can help.
A caveat for composters: Mulch and compost both contain bacteria and fungi—and in fact, that’s what makes them operate. But they can get into the respiratory tract, allegedly causing breathing difficulties and even more serious symptoms such as fever. The condition is called “organic dust toxic syndrome.” To prevent it, gardeners are advised to keep mulch and compost damp, so that it doesn’t shed so many in-air particles. Applying mulch or compost with a gentle hand also reduces the problem.
Notes from the manure pile: Some gardeners, and lots of organic farmers, swear by poultry manure, feeling it is the best encouragement for plant growth. A Dutch company is producing a slow-release product called Melfert NPK 532. It is said to be acceptable to organic gardeners as well as high-tech growers, and it doesn’t smell. People with enough yard space and the proper zoning sometimes raise chickens expressly for the manure they provide the gardens—smelly or not.
Chapter 20
ANN’S EYES GREW WIDER, AS she ate her Cobb salad and listened to Louise’s stories, Reingold at the movie, Reingold at the topless bar, then Reingold in the car chase. When she came to the part played by Jeremy the stripper, her companion bowed her head and hastily swallowed before breaking into a fit of laughter that caused a couple at a nearby table to look over at them curiously.
The young land officer said, “That’s going to be a great story to tell your grandchildren—if you live long enough to have any.” Then, mortified, she realized what she had said. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be so glib. Being chased on that road must have been terrifying. You take a lot of chances.”
Louise had lost her appetite for her soup, which constituted lunch today. “Reingold didn’t harm me, but he was absolutely furious to think I was spying on him. The man is a mystery.”
Next she related the scene in the kitchen of Porter Ranch with Eddie and Frank. “I still have an uneasy feeling about Frank’s safety. It’s a toss-up as to who is more suspicious, Josef Reingold, with Eddie as his possible accomplice, or the combination of Mark Payne and Earl Tatum.”
Ann said, “Developers—every one of them—profit no matter who killed Jimmy and Sally Porter. If Sheriff Tatum and Mark Payne are partners of some kind, and it looks like they are, they needn’t have committed the crimes themselves. In fact, any one of them could have hired someone else to do it.”
Louise looked carefully at Ann, and wondered if what she said next would be going too far. “Do you want to tell me what happened between you and Mark Payne?”
Ann bit her lips together, then seemed to make a decision. “I was wondering when you’d ask. We’re not on, well, good terms. It wasn’t too long after his wife died in the accident. He came around and softened me up so I’d go out with him. It was fun for a while—we skied and hiked, and that part was good. But he does drink, and that’s when things got impossible. So I told him I wanted to end our relationship.”
“How long had you been dating?”
“Oh, six months. And, you know, sleeping together…” Her face turned red. “After I broke it off, he came over one night when I was all ready for bed and insisted on coming in. To ‘talk’ I let him, not knowing how loaded he was. And then we had a terrible fight and…”
“He … forced you?”
Ann leaned forward, her lips trembling, but in the end she couldn’t say the words. She only nodded.
“Oh, Ann!” Louise reached over and gripped her friend’s hand. “Did you … what did you do?”
Ann pulled her hand away and sat back. After a moment she said, “It’s what I didn’t do. I didn’t bring charges. I couldn’t. There I was, recently promoted to senior land officer for Boulder Parks and Open Space—”
Her voice shook. “How could I bring charges agai
nst my lover, when he was the biggest builder in the county? The terrible thing is, I’ve always regretted it, even though I know it would have injured my career. I would have been that raging, illogical female who ‘consented’ for six months, and then changed her mind.” Her breaths came heavy and uneven, her chest heaving.
“Ann, I’m so sorry,” said Louise. “I shouldn’t have brought it up. But I did it for a reason.”
Her companion nodded, silent for a moment as she tried to regain her composure. Finally, she said, “I know why. You wonder if Mark Payne is a man who could kill in cold blood. Louise, I’ve never forgiven him. I do think he could. After what happened to me, I even wonder about that accident that killed his wife …”
“You mean, he could have set it up?”
“When he’s drunk and high, he has this monster inside of him—and I think it’s still there.”
They fell silent as they turned back to their food. Louise realized there were now four strong suspects in the Porter family murders. Josef Reingold, Earl Tatum, Eddie Porter, and Mark Payne. A moment later, she acknowledged that she must add a fifth. Pete Fitzsimmons.
She smiled sadly at her companion. “You realize I won’t be around when all this is finally cleared up. I leave the middle of next week.”
Ann’s face fell, as if she were going to cry. “I know. I’m going to miss you.”
“I’ll miss you, too. I’m off to my next stop on the West Coast, and then home to confront real life. Our older daughter, Martha, will be home from her latest internship, but just briefly. Then her college term begins. Bill will be back from his latest assignment—” Her brow furrowed as she thought of her unresolved problems with her husband.
The tawny eyes were examining her closely. “I’m having difficulties in my personal life, too.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” replied Louise, in a voice with as little emotion as if Ann had just disclosed she had a rip in her jeans. She patted her lips with her napkin and reached for the check. She had known Ann had some kind of trouble in her marriage, but she had no desire to hear intimate details, any more than she would have shared such details with another woman herself. Furthermore, how did this woman know that she and Bill were having problems?
Ann said coolly, “We’ll split that bill, okay? And don’t you worry, Louise—I’m not about to dump more details of my sex life on you.”
She had seen right through Louise and her up-tight Presbyterian background. Louise realized what a hypocrite she was, encouraging Ann to spill her guts to her—about everything but her marriage. No sex talk, please: I’m a prude. “Look, I didn’t mean—”
Ann interrupted. “It’s okay. Actually, it does have to do with sex—but it’s strictly clinical. Luke wants me to quit work to undergo in vitro fertilization again.”
There was relief in Louise’s voice—this was indeed clinical, and wouldn’t involve strange positions, practices, or partners. “Oh, I see. That’s unfortunate. I’ve read that low sperm count is a problem in all the developed nations. But you—you don’t want to try it—again?”
“No. You may not know how traumatic it is. You and Bill were lucky. You just went ahead and had children in your early twenties. But if you’re like me, with the biological clock ticking, it’s totally—”
“Unrelaxing?”
“More than that. It’s tyrannical, trying to get pregnant. When to do it, when to hold off. Fertility pills. We’ve tried in vitro a couple of times. We could spend fifty thousand or more and still not have a baby. I have several friends who’ve failed at it, too.” Ann’s anguished eyes sought some answer in the ceiling. “Now he wants me to quit my job so I can make a total commitment to the process.” Tears sprang to her eyes.
Louise knew well how Ann loved her job. “Oh, Ann.”
The waiter, observing that their conversation had a new lease on life, wandered over and refilled their water glasses. When he left, Ann continued. “There’s more to it than just the anxiety,” she said. “I think even childless people can have a purpose. I adore my job, and I know it helps thousands of people, including children. What I really hate is what happens to some of these women. Acquiring a baby is everything to them. They’ve labored so hard to come by a baby that it’s as if the baby is a mirror of themselves—you should hear them.”
She looked around, to be sure that no one at a nearby table fit this category. “One in particular I know. She talks to her baby in this low voice, telling the child all these things that relate to the mother, as if she’s inoculating that baby with her ideas. So that the little creature can grow up and be just as wonderful as the parent!”
“In other words, she’s very proud of her new possession.”
“Exactly,” said Ann, delighted that Louise seemed to understand. “Now, my dad and mom were great. I remember them for what they didn’t do. They held me on a loose rein, although, on the other hand, they wouldn’t have let me crash and burn…”
Louise looked across the table into the intense, yellow-green eyes, and could not imagine Ann crashing and burning, for this woman was tough as nails. Beyond that, she didn’t know Ann Evans any better than she knew the other principal players out here. Why was Ann totally free from suspicion? Louise sensed that, under the right conditions, the woman could be quite ruthless. And why not now? She had just lost an opportunity to provide the public with a wilderness park almost as large as the city of Boulder!
A quick scenario played through her mind: Jimmy Porter is gunned down. Frustrated by the loss of her multimillion-dollar open space deal, senior land officer systematically kills, first, Jimmy’s turncoat daughter Sally … next, the reckless son Eddie, and finally, Jimmy’s wrong-thinking fiancée, Grace … leaving good son Frank to do the right thing.
Louise pulled herself from her reverie, feeling cheap. The fact that she suspected Ann indicated the pathetic quality of her investigation. Unable to get the dirt on genuine suspects in the case, she’d reached out frantically to find a new one. Next she’d think Harriet Bingham was tottering around with a shotgun, offing people just for pleasure.
Ann was saying, “My parents stayed out of my business, and that’s all I asked, even when I did things like climb the toughest rock face at Eldorado Springs. They were silent, and silence, to me, meant support. My dad, who’s a lawyer, could have told me how disappointed he was when I went into environmental studies, but he kept mum.”
She gave Louise a radiant smile. “And my career has worked out so well.”
“But now, Luke wants the two of you to have your own child.”
“Yes. I’m thirty-eight, and if we don’t do it now, I’ll be too old. What’s worst of all about this is that I don’t agree with the original premise that we must have children of our own to be a perfect family. We can adopt.”
Louise admired Ann, but the woman certainly had odd taste in men. First, she got mixed up with the violence-prone Mark Payne. Then, she married a man who insisted on a child of his blood, just like a European monarch. Yet Luke couldn’t be that intractable. After all, he did like gardening and flowers. He’d probably come around to the idea of adoption.
“What will you do?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what more to say to him. He’s off on a long business trip”—she blushed—“and I’m hoping maybe the reunion when he comes back will be the time something happens. Then I’ll be off the hook. Otherwise…”
“I know what you mean. I have a problem I can’t make up my mind about. It’s just like yours.”
“How could it possibly be?”
“Your argument is not about a baby. It’s whether you or your spouse is going to determine your future.”
Ann sighed. “You’re right.”
“It’s the same with Bill and me. I love him about as much as a woman can.” She pushed a strand of long chestnut hair back from her face and gave Ann a glance, wondering if she were revealing too much to a person she didn’t know very well. Yet she could hardly stop in mid-story.
“It’s about his taking a job overseas. If he does, my career suffers just when it’s going so well. I don’t know if I’d … ever feel quite the same way about him again.”
“I wonder if there’s a happy solution for either one of us,” said Ann. Then, she tried to lighten the conversation. “But it may not be so serious for you—you don’t pay much attention to what your husband says, anyway.”
The words crowded in on her. You don’t pay much attention to what your husband says … “What do you mean by that?”
“The Porter murders. You’ve gone right ahead and investigated them, even though you told me Bill didn’t want you to…”
Louise frowned, for what Ann said held at least a kernel of truth. She needed a rapprochement with Bill. Suddenly one came to mind. Maybe she could work out a deal with WTBA-TV to spend part of the time in the States, and the greater share with Bill in Vienna. Maybe her cohost John Batchelder could step up and shoulder half the program. That way, she would not have to give up her job or her marriage. Of course, Bill might not like this plan, either.…
These interior thoughts completely occupied her, until her companion brought her back to the present.
“Louise, are you all right? I didn’t mean to upset you by anything I said.…”
Louise moved onto a safer topic. “What were we talking about—investigations? You know, this hasn’t been much of an investigation, Ann, just visiting the ranch with you, doing a little searching through records … Maybe I should have done more.”
“What did you do to help solve those other murders?”
“Not that much. Sometimes Bill and Janie and I did a little surveillance. Without physical evidence to check out—and the police have to do that, usually—you just kind of wait, and maybe nudge a little, and something happens.”
“Nudge—and then something happens? And then what?”
