Remember me trying to get my compost pile hot.(that was an unfortunate sentence, but I am leaving it). Remember all the work all the worry all the unanswered questions. I tried and tried and tried to get my compost pile to heat up. I babied it. I gave it everything a compost pile could ever desire to become a hot working pile. There was much nashing of teeth. I was determined to dominate the compost pile and I failed over and over again. Or so I thought.
Yesterday I added two bags of frozen food scraps saved for me by my loving Mamala. I cleaned out all the stuff from under the rabbit hutch and added it to the pile. Then I put about a four inch layer of fresh green stuff, mostly some overgrown garlic chives that I weeded out. Then I watered the dooey out of the whole mess. This morning, the pile felt warm. Temp read 90 degrees. Hmmm. Later, I began to smell the slight scent of ammonia, pretty definite sign of a hot pile. Temperature reads 95, really? I pull out the thermometer. I feels hot, really hot. Go inside, get a food thermometer out of the kitchen. Stick it in the pile. It is only about eight inches long. This thermometer zooms up to 140 degrees. The other thermometer, my high dollar compost thermometer, has been wrong all along. Stupid thermometer.