I wish we had a dog. No, actually, I do not. My kids do. A dog, however, isn't an option for more than one reason, first and foremost, we're all allergic. But I've come up with a solution that meets all of our needs... ready for this?... Worm Composting.
O.K. So I'm not the first. It's currently quite trendy actually, but, never the less, it's brilliant. I ordered a Biostack, which my sanitation department offers for a third of the retail price, and once my bin got here, I raced over to my dad's, who's been composting for decades. See, what's old is new again, and I picked up my first bucket of worms.
In the car on the way over, I explained to Tizzy what I had in mind, telling him that we'd be feeding the worms all of our scraps, and in turn they would convert our rotting food into wonderful rich fertilizer, other wise known as worm castings. I'm not sure where my words took a turn, but after a long pause, Tizzy agreed that he would eat the worms, as long as we cooked them first. This, from my pickiest of eaters. Who knew all I needed to do was fry up a few worms, and my culinary dilemmas would be over?!
I regret to say that, while we didn't eat our first batch, we did manage to kill them all off. In my haste to get started, I didn't properly wet the soil and bedding. I checked on them a few days later, and, no one was home. Where could five hundred plus worms have gone? Apparently they're comprised of nearly ninety percent water, and when they die, they just shrivel up without a trace. I felt a tad morose, for my part in their demise, to which my husband reminded me they were just worms, but they were my responsibility, and I felt guilty all the same. Yet, back to my dad's I went, and got two buckets more this time, for safe measure.
It's now been about a month and a half, and they're doing great! They're frisky little buggers, and are multiplying at an alarming rate. I have a small bucket under the sink where I discard fruit and vegetable peels, pour soggy bowls of cereal, and all the food that's swept up from under the table at the end of the day. I bring a bucket of food to the bin every few days, and turn the new loam produced from the food of the last bucket, hardly recognizable once the worms and other critters have had their way with it. I have a bales worth of straw, that I'd mulched the side yard with last fall, and I'm working it into the compost as bedding. When I've used it all up, I can resort to shredding newspapers and recycled paper bags. Worms are better eaters than goats, who're much more particular about their eats than their reputation alludes, and the silent squigglers are far less demanding.
I think I have met my family's need for a pet, at least for now. When people come to visit, the boys drag them to the shade of the forest, a low canopy in the corner of our yard, where the hedges meet the Japanese Maple, and show them the worm bin, which Tizzy claims is haunted. Haunted, by the first batch of worms, I suppose. Zip stirs up the compost with his plastic shovel and puts his finger to his lips, "Shhh - dey 'sleep," and when he manages to unearth a particularly large cluster, he shrieks with delight "Da Worms! Da Worms! See dem?!"
I'm told it's important for the worms to do their thing for at least the first few months, before harvesting their castings, as they thrive in the richer environment. Ours seem to be thriving.
They're surprisingly fascinating to watch, kind of like an earthy, rustic, fish bowl. It's not for the faint of heart, but if you're at all curious, you're likely to find this little microcosm more captivating than nauseating. I look forward to enriching my gardening experience with this environmental experiment, and I will keep posting my discoveries, in future Trash to Treasure Tuesdays.
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