For about two weeks now, I’ve been finding the lid taken off one or the other of my compost bins. They aren’t just off as in laying-off-to-the-side. They’re often six feet or more into the woods at the edge of which my compost bins sit. Every few days or so I’ve tromped into those woods recovered the lid, uttering the name of my wife under my breath in a not-unkind but exasperated manner. The lid goes back on top of the compost bin, only to go back into the woods.
Today while we were watering and weeding and poking and planning outside, my wife turned to me and asked in her nicest voice why I’d been keeping the compost bins in the woods.
I’ve never seen my youngish kids so much as play near the bins, and certainly they’ve never expressed interest in the bins themselves; I think the bins emit those elusive work-rays that manage to repel children so well. In the meantime, my dog has been sniffing around the ground surrounding the compost bins with an especial interest.
My children are tucked in for the night; I’ll have to ask them about the matter in the morning. I can’t decide whether or not I’d prefer the children to be the culprits.