A banana needs almost no time.
What about the recalcitrant eggshell?
You cannot pulverize chicken bones with your castigations (Die you motherfucker!). But could trying be cathartic? Mid meltdown (as Mrs. Barnes with a thumb on the nine uneasily peers over the fence) you might be roused by a rabbit taking cover in the briar patch. A stray cat plays it cool.
You ask, “How long have I been yelling at these bones?”
“Hell if I know,” says the cat. “How about putting on some pants?”
While regular aeration, the right moisture levels, chopping, a bucket of coffee grounds and—if those eggshells are really bugging you — grinding will get the pile cooking, Time must still hold —as a glass does water — it must hold (not hasten) the microscopic process that returns everything to the earth and that will —someday—return you too. No more than it would importune the critters that carry out this job to “Hurry up!” would Time impatiently tap, tap, tap as you recovered from a kick in the gut… or savored a cup of coffee, for the matter; spring does not scold daffodils.
Take as much time as you need.
Keeping bones out of the compost bin altogether is the safe and often recommended choice, although I don’t adhere to it. I’ll rinse the carcass clean and let it dry in the fridge before chucking it in with the rest of it. In any case,
It’s too much to perfectly dodge adversity (and its remains).
Not everything is a banana.
Turn the pile. Don’t let a stubborn avocado pit ruin the day. Add stuff. Keep turning. Those bones will almost wholly disappear. And no matter what you do, eventually they will.
Dog shit, on the other hand, is an entirely different matter.
Life According to the Compost Pile:
- Nothing is Wasted
- Not Everything is a Banana