Last weekend, I was looking forward to getting organized, in a seed packet kind of way. It was supposed to rain, rain, rain. Perfect, I thought. Time to get my thoughts together. Time to soak the rainbow chard seeds. Wait — I mean, time to drive into town and go to the Living Green Expo!

Were you there? If you missed it, you can still see the exhibitors virtually.

I wandered among the solar displays and picked up information about CSA farms (of which there are many near my house) and talked to people about the linseed-based flooring called Marmoleum.

But the coolest thing I did was to adopt some worms. I haven’t named them just yet, but I’m excited to have a sample of red worms to use in composting. My compost bin is underperforming, thanks to a too-shady locale. So I’m going to try vermicomposting and see if that works better for me.

Vermicomposting is a fancy name for feeding your worms scraps — stuff you’d toss in the compost anyway — and then using their “output” as compost. They are supposed to be faster and easier than composting the normal way, and just as good for your garden.

Have you tried it? Is there a downside? Got any advice for this novice?

I’m in my Star Tribune cubical attempting to peel an orange with my too-short fingernails. The rind is stubborn. Simultaneously slippery AND sticky, my hands fumble the fruit. Juice sprays all over my keyboard, all over my monitor — all over me.

Just when I think I’ve got my produce under control, a rindy-section leaps out of my grip like a slick fish and flounders across the can’t-remember-the-last-time-I-was-vacuumed office carpet.

Damn! Damn! Damn!

I scramble under my desk to rescue the fruit only to find it coated in mystery hair and crumbs.

For a moment, my inner sixth-grader contemplates the feasibility of the ol’ ten second rule. “If the orange only touched the carpet for ten seconds or less, it’s still good, right?”

I frown and decide that the oozing fuzzball is a better snack for the compost bin than for me.

My hand instinctively moves towards the garbage can, then my brain clicks into gear — Wait! Wait! Wait!

This is the office. There is no compost bin here. That nasty orange (and all its delicious soil building nutrients) is heading for the trash!

Suddenly, I’m trapped an internal eco-ethical debate, paralyzed by produce.

How much food do I waste at the office every day? Every year?

An apple core, a crust of bread, surely my co-workers would compost if given the opportunity, right?

Why isn’t there a compost container next to all the recycling containers?

Could I secretly started a compost bin at the office?

Dear gardening friends, have I have gone too far? Transform a corporate office space into a green(er) space? Surely, this is crazy talk. I just need a few hours of soil and sunshine (or perhaps a new office plant), then I’ll forget all about this kooky composting crusade.

Right?

When making a raised bed, many organic gardening books recommend digging up the sod and reusing it to fix dead patches in the lawn. This seemed like a great idea, but the sod had other plans.

	Sod does not roll up clean and smooth like new carpet. It is alive, lumpy and quite determined to stay exactly where it was seeded. Our dull shovels were no match for the rocks, tree roots, and nest of orange centipedes. After a half hour of sweating and swearing, Brian and I suddenly cared more about saving our backs than saving our scraggly patch of grass. Thirty bucks can rent you a fine rototiller.
	While Brian tilled, I found this buried under the grass. Can any Hot Wheels fans identify this object d’art from 1969? Thanks for the tip, Underblog. This Peeping Bomb clip-on pin belongs to the the Hot Wheels redline collection. Mattel produced these cars between 1968 and 1972. The name “redline” comes from the red stripe around the tires. What surprises have you unearthed from your topsoil? Send a snapshot to jchismar@startribune.com for an online gallery.
	Because we have a full compost bin, we decided to use free compost instead of buying peat moss to lighten the soil. Though many gardeners recommended using peat moss, an environmentalist cautioned me against it. She claimed it was a non-renewable resource that took hundreds of years to re-establish. After a quick Google search, I learned the differences between a peat bog and Canadian sphagnum peat moss. My friend was half right – peat bogs do take hundreds of years to regenerate, but peat moss can re-establish itself rather quickly. (You can learn more about Canada’s peatlands and preservation policies here.)
	A beginner’s big mistake: Mulch is not the same as compost. Mulch, like grass clippings, wood chips or straw, goes on top of the soil after you plant to preserve moisture and cut down weeds. I got the two confused and tried to till the straw into the soil. Wrong! Tilling straw is like twirling spaghetti with a fork. Quick and tight, the straw wound around the blades and choked the machine.
	We cut a 50-foot soaker hose into three pieces and customized a watering system for each bed. Hopefully, this will save us time lugging hoses around the backyard and a little money on our water bill. Has anyone actually buried a soaker hose in the garden? Does it make a difference?
	Ta–da! Three 4×8 raised beds and two unused bales of hay. Let the planting begin! PS: Is it too late for carrots?