I was ashamed, and the family was less than amused. But I did not know what to do. I was willing, but clueless. Turn the contents? The bins weighed eighty pounds and poking them with a shovel was ineffectual.

A friend who has rescued me before came over with her daughter and two of her favorite pitch forks. Who has a favorite pitch fork? Ben has a favorite fork but that's different. They wore tall boots, and wielded their tools to spread the uncomposted rinds and peelings in the bramble bushes. Now the sun and rain stood a chance to work their magic. At the bottom of the bin was actual, brown compost. But the top had lacked the right combination of carbon and nitrogen to pull off the transformation. I washed out the bins and thanked them with sewing lessons and watermelon. The chickens had a hey day with grubs.

She is my mentor. Sure people can learn from You Tube and Dummy books, but when a real live human being shows up it makes a bridge between the known and unknown. That is why I care about linking couples up with mentors. Sure it can be hard to admit to yourself and another person that you cannot wield that conversation about the family vacation without impaling someone. And letting them see your garbage is embarrassing. 

But my friend left her judgments at home in a locked closet, and only brought compassion.

And her favorite pitchforks.