Let me introduce a force for good in my life: worms. They’re brilliant. These cheerful fellas leave little tunnels in the soil as they tour the land. “So what?” you may ask. Well, said passages bring much needed air and drainage to my leaden soil.
That alone would be cause for celebration, but worms have a few more tricks up their sleeve. For example, they eat organic stuff. An old allotment ruse is to leave manure on top of the soil over winter; the worms will eat it, mixing it with the soil, and it’ll all be gone by spring. Great soil, no digging required (thank God).
Mr Worm’s appetite is one of the driving forces of compost. He eats your rubbish, and turns it into free nutrients with which you can replenish your plants. What a helpful chap.
Daughter likes worms too. She’ll glimpse them from afar with an exuberant cry: “Wiggly worm! Wiggly worm!” Unfortunately, handling them requires dexterity she has yet to acquire. The worms die a torturous death, bludgeoned by her affection. I’m left rather queasy, with the feeling I’ve betrayed a friend.