I never thought much about worms. They did their thing, I did mine, and our paths did not cross.
Until last winter when Jim heard of raising compost worms on the radio driving to Chicago. (Thanks, NPR.) He mentioned the process that night but it was not until I was moving Christmas decorations to a cardboard box while shredded newspaper and worms were going into their old plastic storage bin that I understood the seriousness of his interest.
I winced as the drill pierced the top of the bin. Surely this would not last, and my decorations did not need air holes. "The second I see a bug or rodent, those worms are going outside!" I yelled as rotten vegetables were carted down to the bin beside the dryer.
Imagine my surprise when a handful of small pale worms grew into a colony of fat pink ones that were released in the back yard.
Partners planning the release.
Products of their success - healthy worms and compost.
Eventually the worms crawled away and left compost for our tomato plants.
Front row twirling the jazz canes.
"Start spreading the news. We're leaving today. We want to be a part of it - first grade first grade. We want to share and get along with all our friends. We made it here. We'll make it anywhere. We're on our way . First grade first grade."
Silly faces with friends at the reception.
With Sabrina,
Mommy,
and Daddy.
Daddy in the hall checking out the report card.
