An Office's Trash is a Garden's Treasure

Last April, my Eco Committee cohorts Molly Greenwood,  Natasha Berman and I decided to take a good, smelly look at what our office was throwing away. The Eco Committee is a kind of sustainable special operations force. Our goal: to ensure the Santa Monica office is truly green down to the recycled content of our pens (we checked, it's 75%).

On this mission we conducted an office waste audit, collecting the office garbage for one week. Donning rubber gloves and surgical masks we sifted through heaps of banana peels, napkins, plastic cups and caesar salad leftovers. We sorted the remains of the day into categories and then weighed them, meticulously notating the data. There were moments of repulsion (certain combinations of food should never be witnessed with mortal eyes), moments of elation (Tosha found her favorite Tupperware, which she'd given up for lost), and we made shocking discoveries. Half-full rolls of toilet paper were being thrown out before their time had truly passed. Intermingled with our garbage, I spotted a soup can I'd explicitly placed in the recycling bin. We deduced that many recyclables were ending up in the dumpster with our trash, instead of achieving their rightful destiny at our local recycling center. There was a gap in communication with our cleaning crew, and we worked with them to make clear both what our office recycling policies were, and equally important, the reasons why we had these policies.

Our findings were indicative of the need for change. The percentage breakdown for what our office threw away that week:

• 53% was recyclable;
• 23% was standard, run of the mill trash (napkins, certain kinds of packaging, etc);
• 2% was bad trash (the kind that won't break down in a landfill for an eternity, think Styrofoam and non-recyclable plastics); and
• 22% was compostable.

Our dumpsters held a momentous opportunity: we could start a composting practice in our office. Nearly a quarter of our office waste was food waste, or compostable material. We found a composter appropriate for our needs. It was a sleek, sexy, wormless deal that ran on 5 kW of electricity per month (about fifty cents worth). With the support of our office administrator, we purchased the Naturemill and placed food scrap receptacles at various points in the office to collect the generous donations of staff leftovers. Aided by the laws of thermodynamics, remnants of our meals became dark, rich, earthy compost-veritable black gold.

No one appreciates the value of compost more than gardeners. There is, in fact, a growing movement of sustainable gardeners within urban communities who are improving soil conditions one season at a time. There are many reasons to garden these days. One may grow for patriotic, environmental, political, dietary, or even spiritual reasons. A vegetable garden may seem like a minor act in the grand scheme, but growing our own food reduces our reliance on fossil fuels and unsustainable agricultural practices in addition to nourishing us with fresh produce. Also, and I speak from experience, the things you grow usually taste better.

This notion is permeating every strata of our society-there is even a petition urging President Obama to use the White House lawn space as an organic garden. If you don't have a yard to grow in, consider joining ranks with those who garden in the vacant, unused spaces of your community, the guerilla gardeners.

If pressed for a reason why we should garden, I would say that it affords us a valuable connection to the processes by which we feed ourselves, and allows us to engage more fully with our own humanity.

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