Medicinal Garden Diary Episode 1. How to Obtain A Yield With Compost
Today I want to chat with you about the permaculture principle of obtaining a yield, and, because we're starting our gardening journey at the bottom, with soil, we're focusing on compost. Now, what does compost have to do with obtaining a yield? Well, in a closed-loop garden system like I’m trying to create, quite a lot. Before we begin, let me offer you a no-frills description of what the principle obtain a yield means in permaculture.
In permaculture, “Obtain a Yield” means:
Design your system so that it produces something useful.
A system should provide a tangible return for the energy, time and resources you invest in it.
Looking Beyond The Obvious
One of the things I love most about permaculture is that it invites us to rethink what success looks like. When we hear the words obtain a yield, most of us immediately think of baskets overflowing with vegetables or fruit trees laden with harvests. And yes, that is certainly one kind of (fabulous) yield. But permaculture asks us to notice all the other gifts our gardens offer, too. A healthy soil is a yield. Seeds saved for next season are a yield. Pollinators visiting your flowers are a yield. Knowledge gained through failure is a yield. Every system should give something back, even if it’s not the thing we originally set out to collect. Once you begin looking through that lens, you realise your garden is providing abundance in ways other than what you harvest.
Compost is one of those quiet, unassuming yields that can easily be overlooked. It isn’t glamorous. You can’t scatter it across your dinner plate or arrange it in a vase. But it might just be one of the most valuable harvests your garden produces, because every handful represents nutrients returned, waste transformed, and the promise of healthier plants and a healthier Earth, for seasons to come.
I’m not going to go into a long explanation of what compost is, or how to make it; the internet is full of people sharing their wisdom on that subject. What I do want to share with you is a few strategies that I’ve used in my garden that have absolutely transformed the soil in my veggie patch, and have done it in a super easy way. My style is always; how easy and straightforward can I make this, so I can get on with my life.
Last Winter
Last winter I shared this letter on Substack showcasing my garden as it was, and my plans for its future, which included working on soil health because the garden I inherited was overgrown, full of weeds and the veggie patch was filled with sandy soil, and, as I discovered later, bits of broken terracotta posts, kids toys, long streams of net (!!!) and other random bits of paraphernalia. My veggie patch now, 12 months later, is a fertile growing space that has seen me harvest peas, spinach, broad beans, potatoes, leeks and poppies. Right now it’s full of broccoli, cabbage, chamomile, broad beans, sweet peas, celery, chives, thyme, garlic, onions, spinach, kale and self-seeded potatoes. Yes, I’ve obtained many yields, and I owe it all to compost (and manure, which is kinda funny, how waste products make things grow.)
Composting Without The Bugs
Most gardeners will teach you to compost in big above-ground bins. The whole idea of an open pile of decomposing mess makes me squirmish. My parents had a compost bin like that when I was a kid, and I can remember my mum sending me out in the darkening evening with the veggie scraps from that night’s dinner to throw on top of it. Now, let me tell you, I do not like bugs. I understand them now, so I’m not as intolerant of them as I was back then, but when I went out to that compost heap as a kid, I was freaking out about all the creepy crawlies. So maybe my aversion to open compost piles come from childhood experiences, but I also live in the city, one with a bit of a rodent problem, and I 100% do not want to encourage rodents in my yard.
My solution was to opt for an in-ground worm farm, without the worms. I simply buried a compost basket directly into the garden bed and began feeding the soil. This system is so much simpler and has all the benefits of regular compost making and then some:
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It feeds the soil exactly where it’s needed. Instead of moving finished compost around the garden, the nutrients are released directly into the surrounding soil, right beside the plants that need them most.
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It encourages earthworms and beneficial soil life. Even without adding compost worms, local earthworms quickly discover the buffet. Along with fungi, bacteria and countless other tiny organisms, they help break everything down into rich, living soil. Whenever I lift the lid on one of my in-ground compost bins, I’m greeted by masses of little flies, worms and tiny bugs getting very, very busy. And they’re all nicely contained within the system, so I’m not freaking out! I’d also like to add that I have not seen a cockroach yet. Happy days.
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The nutrients are less likely to be lost. Heavy rain can wash nutrients out of traditional compost piles, but burying organic matter keeps much of that goodness where plant roots can access it.
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It improves soil structure. As the organic matter decomposes, it creates humus, helping the soil hold both moisture and air. That’s especially valuable in my windy Tasmanian garden, where keeping moisture in the ground is an ongoing challenge.
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It requires very little space. If you’re gardening in raised beds or a small suburban garden, you don’t need room for a large compost heap. One buried basket can do the work in a single bed.
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It saves time and effort. There’s no turning piles, no wheelbarrowing compost across the garden, and very little maintenance. Nature does almost all the work for you.
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It becomes a slow-release fertiliser. Rather than one big application of finished compost, nutrients are released gradually over weeks and months as the material breaks down, providing a steady source of nourishment.
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The Process is much quicker. A regular compost pile can take between 6-9 months to decompose, whereas I noticed my in-ground compost took under 3 months to completely break down.
Here’s a short video of my first in-ground system.
Since then, I have purchased 2 much smaller terracotta bins, with closed-in bottoms. I’m really enjoying these because now, not only do the earthworms carry the compost through the surrounding soil, but I can also lift the entire bin out of the ground when it’s full of compost and spread it around the garden. Win/win. And because the bins are small, it only takes a month or so for scraps to become compost, which keeps my enthusiasm levels high.
I also invested in a closed, above-ground compost bin during the summer when I found I had more scraps than my in-ground system could handle. I did some extra rodent proofing and added a wire column to the centre to eliminate the need to turn. It didn’t take me too long to fill her up either, and she’s now happily decomposing away. Fingers crossed, later this Spring, when it’s time to start planting again, I will not need to buy any commercial compost in their yucky plastic bags. And I will have complete control over every input into my garden.


Obtaining A Yield in Life
As I’ve been sitting with this principle of obtaining a yield, I’ve realised it isn’t just a gardening lesson. It’s a way of moving through the world.
So many of us have been conditioned to measure our worth by visible achievements. The promotions. The full calendars. The money in the bank. The spotless homes. The well-behaved children.
And yes, all those things are positive yields, but as I move through this season of life, I’m beginning to suspect that some of life’s richest yields are almost invisible. Wisdom is a yield. Discernment is a yield. Resilience is a yield. Friendships that have stood the test of time are a yield. A regulated nervous system is a yield. Knowing yourself well enough to say no without guilt is a yield. Peace is a yield.
None of these things arrives overnight. Like compost, they’re created slowly, layer upon layer, season upon season, and it’s usually the things that we consider waste, (the shitty bits, the bits we want to throw out), all the difficult experiences of our lives, the disappointments, the mistakes, the losses and the periods that felt like nothing much was happening at all eventually break down into something deeply nourishing. They become the fertile ground from which a wiser woman grows.
Nature wastes nothing. Every fallen leaf, every wilted flower and every vegetable peeling eventually becomes nourishment for something else. I’m convinced our lives work in much the same way. None of our experiences are ever truly wasted, even the difficult ones. I’m not a believer in “everything happens for a reason.” That thinking, to me, offers a get out of jail free card for people who perpetrate violence on other humans. What I do believe is that, given enough time, care and the right conditions, even the hardest seasons can become the compost that feeds the next chapter.
I think that might be one of the greatest yields of all.
With Much Love,
Cindy XXX