Wreath Workshop, photo by Rachael DePalma

Welcome back to the bins, Decomposers

As we approach the winter solstice and compost season comes to a close (our final Saturday drop-off of 2025 is December 20th) I’ve been thinking a lot about what the last few weeks in the garden have taught me. December always feels like the moment everything gets quieter, the beds are bare, the air gets (painfully) sharp, and most of us are spending more time inside than outside. But somehow, this is when the garden teaches the clearest lessons about cycles and purpose. (Maybe it’s just the cold air going to my head.)

At this year’s Wreath Workshop, Rachael DePalma’s tables were covered in piles of Christmas tree clippings. Donated collections from a Christmas tree farm that Rachael picked up and brought to MSCG.

A decade ago, those would’ve gone straight into the trash without a second thought. This year, people were actively asking where the scraps should go(!)and the compost buckets filled up almost as fast as the wreaths came together. Compost knowledge is growing through small community garden compost programs (like ours, BIG THANK YOU to our volunteers) and the city’s industrial composting rollout earlier this year.

It was a magical Saturday afternoon, neighbors building gorgeous wreaths from Christmas tree shreds while the Sunshine Harvest added a bountiful haul of produce and an equally overflowing potluck table. By the end of the day, the city brown bins were packed, our MSCG piles were filled and turned, and we even gave out finished compost. Neighbors shared laughs, memories, and truly delicious autumn snacks. (Seriously, I hope you got an apple hand pie.) Even in the coldest, driest month, the garden felt full because COMMUNITY. These are the moments that feel real, not theoretical. We create, we take, we return. Nothing wasted.

Even as we celebrated the season’s bounty, the garden reminded us that growth doesn’t always look the way we expect. Take the bottle gourds, for example: we had several large, beautiful ones curing for future use, but one didn’t quite make it. Instead of taking a loss, that imperfect gourd became next year’s seed harvest. Just like our compost, even what seems finished still has purpose, feeding the cycle.

2025 is the Year of the Snake, a year of transformation. That’s the part compost reminds me of again and again, transformation isn’t always pretty, and value doesn’t always show up in the form we expected. Food scraps, Christmas tree branches, they feed our decomposer bugs and all break down into something the soil can use. Compost is a phoenix ring from its ashes. And in the quiet season, when the physical world gets cold and dark, that lesson hits differently. Winter pushes us indoors, but it also gives us space to think about how (or what!) we want to grow in 2026 (pun absolutely intended).

Composting is literal. Bins, buckets, microbes, steam rising on freezing mornings. But it’s also a kind of mindset. A way of seeing the potential in what’s leftover. Just like large chunk overs become a new compost batch. A reminder that even during the off-season, there’s purpose and possibility in the things we might have wasted before.

We’ll be back to turning piles and sweating through summer drop-offs soon enough. For now, as the year turns, I’m taking the garden’s hint. Rest, reflect, save the seeds, and trust that even in December, things are slumbering under the soil, waiting for new purpose in the new year.

Well, that’s the soil (or compost tea if you will) for now.

Thanks for reading!

With grit and gratitude,

Jess Frost, Master Composter

MSCG Communication Committee

Finding Purpose in the Off-Season