Spring has sprung, and new blossoms burst.

Hungered by the lack of fuel, the compost heap beckons him from across the garden, angry steam rising up from its core of planned decay, a foundation for rebirth, and a new life in mulch.

He approaches the beast and tosses the heap, leaves, food scraps, eggshells, and potato peels, fresh fodder for the hungry hole, the stinking monster, now satisfied for a few more weeks.

rotting organic matter,
cheap fertilizer.