I have not been able to face the worms in weeks. Old Cool-Whip containers of melon rinds and coffee grounds are accumulating in my fridge because I keep telling myself I’m going to go out there and feed them but I haven’t been able to get myself to go out and actually do it.
Somehow it’s just too — too something. Too much to have to deal with the hapless creatures that I know have fallen down into the bottomless abyss of the Lower Bin again, too much to wonder if I’m going to find any more weird pupa-babies in there, too much to be faced with my own possible failings as a worm mama.
I’ve even thrown away whole stalks of broccoli trunks and scoops of slimy honeydew seeds because I wasn’t willing to schlep them out to the bin. And you know that’s not like me.
But the past two months have not been normal. Two close family members are dealing with the big C; somehow I can’t get too enthused about minding the Bin. I’ve had to take a break.
It reminds me of the time I had to stop cutting up chickens.
Usually if a recipe for grilling or casseroles calls for a whole, cut-up chicken I buy a whole one and cut it up myself, thanks to Dad’s instructing me on the proper way to do it — a skill deemed essential before I left home. It’s more economical that way and you get to make soup broth out of the necks, backs, breastbone, etc.
I swear it's mocking me
But there was a time back in the early days of being a parent when I just couldn’t face those visceral, pinkly pale carcasses anymore. I took to buying pre-packaged cut-up chickens for some time until I felt up to it again.
My ancestors who butchered, bled and plucked their own birds would likely scoff, but I didn’t care.
Cancer in the family makes me rub shoulders a little closer than I would like with my frail mortality. Maybe that’s why I’m having a hard time facing the Bin. Their writhing helplessness feels like so much humanity. It’s too much wormanity for me to deal with all at once.
But the plastic containers accumulating in the fridge are a constant reminder of my good intentions, so I’m going to have to suck it up and go out there again soon. I’ve trained my family so well that they’ve taken to saving scraps for me to feed to the worms, and I feel like a schmuck for furtively sneaking my own into the trash.
Maybe this weekend. I’ll feel so much better, and the watermelon rinds will stop mocking me.
Our house got TP’d last week. It was a bit of a shocker to shlep out the front door in my PJs to get the newspaper and find the trees, shrubs and yes, even the lawn, festooned in streamers of white toilet paper. It was one of those moments the Buddhists call completely fresh, when…
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It’s hard to believe I’ve been tracking the worms’ consumption for half a year already, but here we are at the end of Week 26. I’ve learned a few things along the way, and this is a good a time as any to stop and reflect on that. Here’s what I’ve learned so far: What…
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Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been three weeks since my last blog post … Seriously, what have I been doing for the last three weeks?? I blame it on the end of the school year, which gets all clogged up with events ‘n stuff. But it probably has more to do…
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I am almost embarrassed to write this week’s column. I didn’t realize how exposed I would feel detailing the food that goes into the worm bin. On weeks when I do a lot of cooking with fresh ingredients, I don’t mind revealing that lots of veggie trimmings and fruit peels are going to the worms….
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I fed an entire half bunch of rotting organic dandelion greens to the worms this week. I did not feel good about it, but at least they did not go in the trash. The only reason I didn’t feed them the entire bunch is that I split my CSA deliveries with my neighbor, so I…
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April was a big month for me. I overcame my trepidation about backpacking to complete, along with my daughter, my Girl Scout Basic Backpacking training, and, oh yeah, I also officially became a Buddhist. Officially? Yes, there is an official method to becoming a Buddhist. It is called Taking the Refuge Vow, which is a…
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Several weeks back, one of my intrepid readers asked what a group of worms is called. I admitted I didn’t know, and suggested perhaps they might be called glom of worms, or perhaps a munch, or a wriggle. I had intended to find out, but before I got around to it, said Intrepid Reader beat…
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This is all that is left of two t-shirts that I put in the bin sometime last year to line the lower tray. I hit on using my husband’s old t-shirts (okay, technically they were not my shirts, but they were in the giveaway pile) because I figured they would hold up longer than newspaper…
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I did not do anything special for Earth Day this year, but when you have a worm bin at home, every day is Earth Day! There is nothing like mucking about in the worm bin to give you an appreciation for the natural cycle of decomposition and renewal. Although I didn’t do anything special for…
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