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When I see all the other farmers in the area making hay, just as the clover is flowering but not yet gone to seed, I know it’s time to make the gardener’s black gold – compost.
 One of the keys to self-sustainable farming is the ability to make compost to nurture the next season’s crop.  Compost can be produced on any scale from a small kitchen scrap bucket to the ginormous commercial facilities.  It’s all made the same way: a variety of organic materials are left to decompose, producing crumbly black humus.
 The easiest and fastest way to make compost is to build layers of “brown” and “green” organic matter.  Brown can be anything dry such as leaves or straw.  Green is any fresh plant material like kitchen scraps, pulled weeds, or lawn clippings.  Toss a little garden soil on top of each layer to add the bacterial load needed to get the process going, wet it down, and wait.  In about three months, voila!  Turning the pile with a pitchfork aerates it and speeds up the process, but that’s more work, so I don’t bother.
 We have about an acre planted to clover and alfalfa just for making compost.  The way I do it is to start with a layer of dead branches on the ground where I want the pile to go.  Building the pile on branches allows for more air circulation.  Then I cut our little hay field.  It’s small enough to do it by hand with a string trimmer.  I have old-fashioned scythes, which work well, but I’m lazy and the string trimmer is faster. Then I hand rake the cuttings into piles and gather them with the trailer towed behind my ATV.  After depositing a fresh green layer on top of the branches, I add a layer of straw, and top it off with a sprinkling of rotted manure.  Then it’s back to the field for another load, and I repeat the process until the pile is as big as I want it.  I wet it all down and cover it with a tarp to keep rain from leaching the nutrients out.  Next spring, my five-foot piles will be decomposed into about a foot or so thick layer of nutritious soil amendment.  I’ll mix it into my permanent raised beds to sustain the gardens through following growing season.
 We also make a different kind of compost here on the farm…one we definitely do not use on the veggie garden.  Since we don’t have indoor plumbing, we have a composting toilet.  Mind you, it’s not one of the fancy $2,000 models advertised in magazines that cater to off-gridders, but one I constructed myself.  I’ve built three composting outhouses over the years, and the current one is my favorite.  A good reference for anyone interested in building their own composting toilet is “The Humanure Handbook” by Joseph Jenkins.
 There are a few design elements that ensure an odor-free outhouse.  When I built ours, I purchased two large, identical, plastic garbage cans with wheels – one to use and one to swap out when the first reached capacity.  The plywood seat platform is situated so that it makes a pretty tight seal against the top of the garbage can with its lid removed.  When purchasing the seat, I chose one that would be flush to the platform so there’s almost no gap when the seat lid is down.  A vent pipe goes from the seat platform out the side of the little building to exhaust any gases.   But the real secret to having a sweet-smelling biffy is: don’t pee in it!  Out here in the wilderness, there are plenty of trees to utilize for that purpose.  In fact, we have a code for it called “gathering kindling,” as in, “I think I’ll go gather some kindling.”   In addition, our outhouse is a two-holer, not for togetherness or even comedic value.  The seats are clearly marked #1 and #2 on the lids.  For the rare occasion when it’s put into use, #1 empties into a little gravel pit.  Only #2 goes in #2 – that’s the one with the bin.  Limiting liquids in the bin, sprinkling a little sawdust down the hole when you’ve finished your business, plus keeping the lid down when not in use makes our outhouse so pleasant that even teenage girls aren’t afraid to use it!  When the bin starts to get full, we exchange it with the identical empty one, put the lid on the full one, and let it sit for a year or more while the contents decompose inside.  By the time it’s necessary to swap them out again, the finished compost can be safely distributed in the woods.
Our privy is quite aesthetically pleasing as well, with a front screened door, windows on each side, and a rear door to access the catch bin.  Inside there’s a built-in magazine rack (to hold the Reader, of course.)  A while back I found an antique cross-stitch sampler at a garage sale that was the perfect artistic addition.  It’s a poem that reads: “Who waits outside the door, one may never know, so tarry not my friend, he, too, may have to go!”