This week I cleaned out my worm bin. Well, cleaned “out” doesn’t really tell the story. Exactly. Though it may…
Up to my elbows in worm poop–excellent fertilizer for the garden and the only reason you’ll EVER find me up to my elbows in poop–I harbored some treacherous thoughts. Dispatch came to mind, as did fishing. With my worms. Meaning no more plant food. How did I get to this awful spot? Well now, the beginning is always a good place to start.
For my birthday I received a worm bin. Now, you can imagine the excitement when I first laid eyes on this contraption. Showed up on my doorstep complete with live worms. Well heavens to hillsides, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven! A worm bin–woohoo! Alert the media, share with the bloggers–we’ve got worms! Immediately I set out to work getting it set up and my wiggly babies settled into their new home.
Over the next couple of months, I fed them, watered them and generally fussed over these gorgeous little pumpkins of mine all the while knowing that if I treated them well, they’d treat me well and poop up a storm! Well, poop they did. And pee. Sorry to be so graphic, but this is “nature” talk–totally okay for the kids. (Better than some of the stuff I’ve overheard on the playground, let me tell you!).
Any-hoo, we were off to a good start until I realized my worms weren’t migrating upward as they should. In the instructions, it was quite clear: continue to add bins and fresh food and the worms will migrate up, leaving their poop down below and easy to “harvest.” Read: scoop out and allow to dry before storing.
Hmph. False advertising, if you ask me. These worms were having no such thing! They were swimming in the bottom bin full of their own “you-know-what” and leaving me no choice but to pluck them out one by one–if I wanted the black gold they had so kindly produced.
Have you ever tried to pluck a worm from slimy goop? It’s not pretty. And it’s stinky. I’ll be honest with you. I was wholly prepared to call my son and allow him to “harvest” some of the worms to use as fishing bait. In fact, I was fantasizing about doing so myself. Pretty mean with a pole, I know I could catch some real beauties with these red wrigglers (that is what they’re for, other than pooping). Oh yes–it’s true. In the midst of the nasty mess, I was prepared to quit. And I hate to quit. But this worm bin was proving a challenge and beyond my gardening limits.
But I didn’t quit. Not yet, anyway. I can still be trusted with the worms well being, keeping them active and fruitful.
Whether it was that half-gallon bag of poop I secured or the mere fact I didn’t want this project to get the best of me, I still have worms and I still have a bin. Though come to think of it, they might do wonders for my compost pile…
Anyone else thinking relocation? Sure would solve the aggravation factor.
But not the fertilization one. For now, I’ll keep my bin, but with this heat, I can’t guarantee for how long. Stay tuned! Better yet–give me some positive reinforcement and helpful suggestions and I may not sneak out for a quick fishing trip. 🙂 Maybe.