Peter Dowdall: Compost turns fallen leaves from what we once called rubbish into riches

'In the wild, no one gathers up the fallen leaves or hauls them to the dump. They’re left to return to the soil. By spring, they’ve become humus that feeds roots, fungi, and insects' 

In the wild, once the autumn leaves have fallen, no one gathers them up or hauls them away; they're left to settle and return to the soil. File picture

I love the autumn. The colours changing, the air cooling, the garden softening. There’s a gentleness about it, a sense that the hustle and bustle of summer is giving way to a slower, more reflective tempo in the garden in the landscape and in life in general.

Recently, I was driving with my daughter, and I was drawing her attention to the stunning foliage colours of the trees ahead. “Look at that, aren’t those colours just amazing?” I said, reminding myself of my own parents. Then, she replied, “Yes, the colours are lovely, Dad, but I don’t like it. It means all the leaves are dying.”

I wasn’t sure what she meant. I asked, "Do you mean the fact that it means summer is over and we're into the autumn?" But no, it was the sadness of so many leaves dying, no longer living and on the trees.

It was a fascinating perspective to me; I hadn’t looked upon it like that before. I suppose I see it differently, not so much that the leaves are dying, but that the trees are preparing for their rest. They’re going to sleep for the winter, giving back to the soil what they’ve taken from it through the year, and more, through their leaf litter and their slow return to earth. It’s part of the natural balance, a quiet act of generosity from the trees to the life beneath them.

Peter Dowdall sees the seasonal changing colours as a sign that the trees are 'preparing for their rest. They’re going to sleep for the winter, giving back to the soil what they’ve taken from it through the year'. File picture

In the wild, no one gathers up the fallen leaves or hauls them away to the dump. They’re left to settle and return to the soil. By spring, they’ve become humus, a fine, crumbly layer that feeds roots, fungi, and insects. The trees draw nourishment from that same soil to fuel next year’s growth. It’s a perfect, self-sustaining circle.

In our own gardens during this season, we spend so much time cutting back, cleaning up and and taking stock, that the wheelbarrow fills quickly. Prunings from shrubs, dead flowers and seedheads, piles of leaves and weeds, and the fading remains of summer. It might all look like waste, but in truth, it’s the most valuable material your garden will ever produce, or as I like to call it, the most valuable soil conditioner money cannot buy.

There’s something almost poetic about it. You pile up what’s finished, the faded blooms, the withered leaves, the grass clippings and within days, nature gets to work. Invisible armies of fungi, bacteria, and worms begin the slow and magical process of breaking it all down.

When we make compost, we’re simply joining in, taking part in that great cycle, turning what we once called rubbish into the richest, most life-giving material of all.

You don’t need fancy bins or expensive equipment to make compost. A quiet corner of the garden will do. If you like things tidy, build a structure from old pallets or buy a compost bin, but honestly, the most important thing is just to start, give it a go.

You don't need fancy bins or expensive equipment to make compost. File picture

Think of compost as a recipe that needs a mix of ingredients: the soft, green material like grass clippings, kitchen peelings, and fresh garden waste, and the drier, brown materials like leaves, cardboard, or shredded stems. If you mix them roughly in the right balance, about two parts brown to one part green, nature will take care of the rest.

Layer the materials as you go, and if you can, give the heap a turn every few weeks to introduce air. Keep it moist but not wet, and before long, it will begin to shrink and change.

The pile warms and steams, and week by week, it changes. It darkens, softens, and begins to smell earthy, rich, and soon last year's waste products have become the energy which once more revitalises the soil in which those same plants are growing.

Almost everything that comes out of your garden can go into the compost heap: leaves, grass cuttings, spent annuals, weeds that haven’t gone to seed, vegetable peelings, coffee grounds, and even shredded paper or cardboard. Avoid cooked food, meat or dairy, as they attract pests, and steer clear of tough perennial weeds like bindweed or ground elder.

Woody prunings are best chopped or shredded first so they break down faster and add structure. The fallen leaves are a treasure in themselves. If you have too many for the compost heap, make leaf mould instead. Just pile them separately, dampen them if they’re dry, and leave them for a year or two. What you’ll end up with is a soft, rich material that’s wonderful for mulching or improving soil.

It’s easy to forget that most of a garden’s life happens out of sight. Beneath our feet, billions of microscopic organisms are working away, bacteria, fungi, worms, insects, all quietly doing their part. When we add compost, we’re feeding that invisible world.

Healthy soil is alive, and compost helps to improve it by improving texture and holding moisture.

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