Worms

There’s still nothing growing here yet, so our gardens are looking pretty dead, especially compared to the green grass and towering firs throughout our neighborhood. The only sign of life from my gardens is the occasional worm who escapes onto the sidewalk on rainy days. My kids are well versed at helping worms back onto the grass, even though I’m never quite sure what I’m supposed to do with them. Will that help? Will that hurt? I should probably find out.

It will be time for putting compost in the soil soon, and although it’s a nasty job, I can attest to this: The worms love it. By April, when I start digging, the soil is positively teeming with worms. I’m happy to report that I have no aversion to creepy crawlies (with the single exception of when I saw a spider’s egg sac open and hundreds of teeny-tiny spiders float away on the breeze. That was not my most dignified moment). So I do my best to let the worms do their thing, moving them out of the way if I need to, but mostly feeling thankful that they’re there.

I know there is a lot of science behind the aeration and fertilizing work that worms do, but to me it seems like a strange alchemy. We put in trash - rotting trash - wait a month or so, and the worms turn it into beautiful black dirt. I also know there’s a lot more at play there between bacteria, fungus and insects, but worms are the part that I see and interact with the most.

Back when my eldest was in preschool, she learned about worms and their role in making dirt. They had a soil table filled with worms and the kids got to get their hands dirty and learn about one small step in how their food was made. I remember her coming home and us reading Richard Scarry and her realization that Lowly Worm probably ate compost and pooped out dirt. For her little mind, the idea was both fascinating and hilarious.

I have to agree. There’s magic there, and meaning too, if we look for it. The lowliest of creatures is the very animal that takes our refuse and turns it into something productive. Worms are overlooked and ignored but it wasn’t until we had a good colony of them that our garden started growing. I wonder how many people we overlook and ignore, at our own peril? How many small, unpleasant tasks we fail to appreciate until they aren’t done?

How many of us are working day in and day out, doing the little things that make life livable for the rest of us? I’m not saying they’re worms, although if I were in charge, that would be a term of honor - like a busy little bee or an eager beaver. Because, even when it looks like nothing is happening, when the gardens are brown and worn out, underneath? There’s an entire world, just waiting for spring.