My Soil is Eating Better Than I Am
How Scraps, Soil, and a Little Neglect Built a Thriving Garden
A Comedic Take on Feeding the Underground Buffet
If I tallied up all the organic matter I lovingly bury in my garden, I’d have to admit something embarrassing: my soil is eating better than I am. While I’m over here debating whether a cup of coffee and half a granola bar counts as a meal, my dirt is feasting on a gourmet spread of banana peels, crushed eggshells, and last night’s salad scraps (which, ironically, I never got around to eating myself).
At this point, I’m convinced my soil has a personal chef—me—and a better meal plan than any dietitian could dream up. But hey, who am I to deny my underground ecosystem a five-star dining experience?
The Michelin-Starred Menu of the Underground
My garden bed is less of a patch of dirt and more of an exclusive, members-only speakeasy for decomposers. The clientele? A well-dressed crowd of earthworms, bacteria, fungi, and other soil life that dine on organic matter like they just discovered the concept of farm-to-table.
On today’s menu:
Banana Peels à la Carte – Full of potassium and served raw, straight from the kitchen counter to the compost trench.
Avocado Shell Surprise – A rich, fibrous dish that takes its sweet time to break down, for those decomposers who prefer slow food.
Coffee Ground Espresso Dusting – A bold, aromatic treat for the caffeine-loving microbes (or at least that’s what I tell myself).
Eggshell Crumble – A crunchy calcium boost, perfect for growing root systems and neutralizing acidic soils.
Wilted Greens Medley – A collection of salad bits I intended to eat but neglected until they transformed into the perfect composting candidate.
Meanwhile, what did I eat today? Probably a piece of toast with peanut butter and whatever snack I could scavenge from the back of the fridge. My soil, on the other hand, is absorbing a steady flow of nutrients, minerals, and organic matter—all without ever hitting a drive-thru.
Soil Has No Food Waste Guilt
Here’s the real kicker: everything my garden gets, it actually uses. No guilt-ridden tossing of wilted kale into the trash, no Tupperware containers of mystery leftovers that have grown their own civilizations. When I bury organic matter, my soil says, “Thank you, I’ll take all of that,” and proceeds to break it down with a level of efficiency I can only dream of for my own digestion.
While I stress over expired yogurt, my garden is out here turning moldy bread into next season’s zucchini crop. Meanwhile, I still have a bag of quinoa I bought in 2018, sitting in my pantry, untouched. My soil? It’s running a zero-waste operation with a perfect circular economy.
Fine Dining for the Microbial Elite
The funny thing about feeding the soil is that it feels like a flex. Other people are out here serving beautifully plated charcuterie boards, and I’m over here lovingly hand-feeding my decomposers a perfectly balanced diet of nitrogen and carbon.
I imagine microscopic fungal networks whispering to each other, “Oh wow, another batch of decomposing potato peels? She spoils us.”
Mycelium tendrils stretch across the underground, dragging nutrients like tiny organic room service carts. Worms wriggle their approval as they dine on decaying vegetable matter, excreting pure gold (a.k.a. worm castings) as their review. My composting efforts have basically turned my garden bed into a five-star resort for soil life, complete with endless snacks and moisture-regulated accommodations.
Meanwhile, I’m rationing my last few slices of bread and contemplating whether I can make a meal out of crackers and hummus.
The Realization: I’m Okay With This
I could be jealous of my own dirt, but honestly? I respect it. The better my soil eats, the better my garden grows. That banana peel and moldy tomato are about to turn into next season’s bumper crop of tomatoes and leafy greens. And sure, my underground ecosystem may be thriving while I eat instant ramen for dinner, but at least I know my soil will pay me back in spades—with better harvests, healthier plants, and a garden so vibrant it could make a homesteader weep.
At the end of the day, I may not be eating a perfectly curated, nutrient-dense diet, but my soil? It’s living (well, technically decomposing) its best life. And that’s good enough for me.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some banana peels to bury—and maybe, just maybe, I’ll make myself a real meal too.
I adore your articles. I’ve really stepped up my composting game this year, thanks to you 🙏
First read this as “my soil is better than I am” 😅😅😅