When I moved into my house on Eau Claire’s ultra awesome Eastside Hill, it came with certain perks. For example, it came with a dryer. Also, the wood floors are very nice. And hey – it has a laundry chute, which is always great. Where else will my kids put their toys, books, shoes, and breakfast foods? It also came with a poorly insulated upper floor, which is a godsend – it really cuts the hassle out of venting all the extra heat that builds up in the wintertime. Seriously, it’s great.

And! Way in the back of my backyard, there’s a large, square compost bin. It’s nothing fancy – just chicken wire stretched around four posts. My wife and I had gotten into the habit of composting kitchen scraps and yard waste at our last house because there had been a similar bin in the backyard. It seemed like a no-brainer. Which is to say that my wife thought it was a no-brainer. We’re reducing the amount of crap we throw into our city’s landfill and hey ... free dirt.

Since we moved in, I’ve developed a pretty regular habit of carrying the compost bucket out back, dumping it into the bin, and banging the bucket against one of the wood posts to dislodge its sludgy mix of coffee grounds and ... moisture. I haven’t asked them, but I’m sure all my neighbors love hearing this sound. I’m sure they hear that ol’ bucket a-goin’ BANG BANG ... BANG and they think to themselves, “Ahhh. There’s the good-looking guy who lives next to us, composting carrot peels and saving the planet. God bless that guy. I should bake him some banana bread. ”

My basic composting technique, finely honed over the past three years or so, is what expensively educated experts call “throwing slimy kitchen scraps and other stuff into a big cage and leaving it there.” It’s a delicately balanced system.

Through rigorous research and analysis Googling, my wife has discovered all kinds of things we can compost, from tissues to parchment paper – it all goes into the glorious, earthy mix, as if we’re DJs bangin’ out the hot beats, but instead of vintage records and drum machines, we have egg shells and rotten potatoes; and instead of making music, we’re making good potting soil.

We’ve yet to actually do anything with our composted dirt, mostly because I’ve been too lazy to shovel it out into a garden. Last summer, I stirred it up and uncovered a mushy old pie pumpkin from the previous autumn, and within a week, it sprouted leaves. Then we got busy birthing a second child, and I forgot about it. By Halloween, we had vines all over the damn place and five or six cute little pumpkins. And some little yellow tomatoes. And a butternut squash. So it all worked out.

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    My system breaks down a bit in the wintertime, as I’m less apt to trudge outside through the snow everyday, and it sometimes takes a pretty robust stink to get me out the door, bucket in hand. But I manage to keep doing it.

I know a lot of you compost freaks just dropped the magazine so you can leap to the nearest computer and e-mail me a bunch of fun facts about vermicomposting (or “red worm composting”) – the current compost du jour. Yes, I know – keeping a vat of little wriggling worms in your basement to eat your table scraps and poop out dirt is very sexy right now. I get it. But I’m already worried about what’s living in the dark places of my basement. I don’t need to be adding worms. On purpose.

Seriously, though, I’m perfectly content to just keep hauling the stuff back to my snowy, frozen compost pile. I can wait for spring for things to start breakin’ down. And I hope you fine readers (if you haven’t already done so) are able to find some method of composting that works for you.

It’s a well know fact – especially to the students of Mansfield Middle School in Storrs, Connecticut who have a totally rad composting fun facts webpage – that about two-thirds of our trash is biodegradable and could be composted. Also, did you know that a compost pile can reach 150 degrees Fahrenheit and it’s all body heat given off by the decomposers. Gross! And awesome. Furthermore, according to the Mansfield Middle Schoolers, you can compost hair.

Yep, knowledge is power.

Anyway, composting through the winter makes me feel like I’m preparing for the spring growing season, like I’m planning ahead. It makes me feel connected to the seasons and the natural world in some small way. It’s great.

So, I guess what I’m trying to say is this: if you feel burnt out with your current lifestyle, if you feel totally zombified by your TV and cell phone and iPod and electric foot massagers and toaster ovens, and you want to break free from your stifling urban cocoon ...

Try a big, stinky compost pile. It works for me.