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  • He's L.A.'s king of compost

  • LOS ANGELES — Steven Wynbrandt sticks his hand deep beneath the layers of straw that blanket his enormous compost heap and pulls out a fistful of black gold, sweet and earthy.
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  • LOS ANGELES — Steven Wynbrandt sticks his hand deep beneath the layers of straw that blanket his enormous compost heap and pulls out a fistful of black gold, sweet and earthy.
    "Look at this soil," Wynbrandt says with excitement as his fingers open, revealing his secret recipe for compost: decomposed dairy cow manure, alfalfa, yarrow, camomile, stinging nettle, oak bark, dandelion and valerian flowers. "I'm an alchemist."
    As further proof that compost is to gardening these days what grass-fed beef and gluten-free gourmet foods are to the world of cooking, the Wynbrandt compost heap photographed by the Los Angeles Times would later sell through word of mouth for $1 a pound. Beyond his emerging role as L.A.'s king of compost, Wynbrandt also leads gardening workshops and teaches classes on how to make better soil — all the more impressive given the fact that just three years ago he was a gardening novice.
    His journey began in 2009, when, as a 32-year-old surfer, teacher, musician and self-described "spiritual seeker," he returned home after traveling for four months in Central America and moved back in with his mother in West L.A. Looking through her kitchen window, he had an epiphany.
    "I wanted to become more self-sufficient and know where my food comes from," he recalls. He wanted to grow his own food free of pesticides and other chemicals. He wanted to become a farmer.
    "He had never planted anything in his life," says his mother, June Wynbrandt. "He might have put an avocado seed in a jar when he was young, but that's about it."
    Still, Steven attacked the shade-covered, weed-choked yard with a vengeance. When six trees needed to be pruned, he donned bike helmet and rock climbing harness, climbed 30 feet high and cut the branches himself with a chain saw. Eventually he had four trees cut down completely to bring in the sunlight needed to grow food. ("That was very difficult for him," his mother says.)
    For three weeks, he worked 14 hours a day, filling his neighbors' green bins and selling the cut logs he accumulated. He stripped the leaves from the trees and added them to a compost bin the size of a bedroom he built in the side yard. He brought seaweed from the beach and secretly collected 3,000 pounds of food scraps from a raw vegan restaurant at midnight for three months. The alchemy was under way.
    Asked if carting 300 wheelbarrows of manure to his backyard and making 25,000 pounds of compost might be viewed as obsessive, Wynbrandt responds: "I'm not obsessive. I'm just doing it right."
    Once his clay soil was amended with his homemade compost, Wynbrandt attended gardening workshops and tapped the knowledge of others, including the Westside Permies, who help people grow edible gardens. He attended lectures by veteran farmers such as Jack McAndrew, a Pacific Palisades, Calif.-based authority on biodynamic farming, an approach that fuses agriculture with spirituality.
    Wynbrandt says his roots in Judaism and his years at Humboldt State University deeply influenced his stewardship for the Earth.
    "There is a Hebrew phrase, Tikkun olam," he says. "It means 'Heal the world.' That's what I'm trying to do."
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