I've been working on a story. As usual. But this one has taken on a life of its own and now I find myself having to research worms and worm farming.
Who would have thunk it?
I hate worms. As a small child going fishing with my dad on the weekend, I couldn't bear to touch those things. My dad had to always put the worm on the hook for me.
When I would walk in the rain and find worms on the side of the road having been forced from the quiet of their homes, I would take every precaution to avoid them. I did not want worm squish on the bottom of my shoe.
In high school when I would help my mom with the weeding of the garden (against my will) I was completely creeped out when a worm would be found coiled or slithering through the dirt.
I would not touch it. But I would not kill it either. Just leave it alone and let it do its thing.
And now for the story.
I won't go into details but through some thoughtful discussion with a dear friend, coupled with an absurd dream I had recently about an old friend becoming a worm farmer (quite successfully I might add) it was decided that it was too cliche to have the farmer in my story be a pig farmer so what the hell, dare to be different...he became a worm farmer. Which led me to the internet and researching anything and everything I could find out about worm farming.
But...there is always a but. The information I found was generic. Could be perceived any way I wanted it to. The only way I am going to fully understand the process is to get my hands dirty. Therefore, I made contact with a local worm farmer and will going on a field trip. Official date is not set, but I am hoping for next week. After the rain stops.
Speaking of rain. I went for a walk yesterday. The sidewalks and roads were littered with worms having been forced from their simple existence. A horrible disruption to their routine of aerating the gardens and whatever else it is they do. (To them, I imagine it's similar to those poor people in Slave Lake being forced from their homes. Or the recent tornado carnage in the US. Sadness.) And even now...more than 20 years later, I still avoid them.
No squish on these shoes.
Love it! Isn't it crazy some of the things we end up researching in the name of our stories? I think my latest greatest find was these crazy "wild bananas" in Africa, which are short and roundish and full of grapefruit-sized seeds. Who'da thunk?
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