Baked worms
My worms had a close call today. The temperature topped 39 degrees Celsius - or over 100 degrees Fahrenheit, for those of you still working in the old measure. We were flaked out inside when I suddenly realised the worm farm was standing in full sun. Yikes! We remember with horror last summer, when the temperature topped 40 degrees and the worms all died.
Now I love worms. The children refer to the worms in the farm as our pets. They don’t all have names, admittedly, but we do regard them as superior beings and in a very real sense part of the household. After all, they eat our food. Or food scraps, at least. It took us a while last summer to realise that they were dead. Then the stench began. It wasn’t just the stink of rotten food. It was the indescribable but once experienced unforgettable smell of dead worm. Worm farms are a wonderful thing - until they go bad. We buried the contents of ours with speed. Time enough for grief.
New worms were purchased, and have beein doing well, so this time we acted quickly. First we gave the farm a hose-down and draped it with a damp towel normally reserved for the dog’s baths. Then we took even more drastic action, removing the legs from the farm and placing it directly on the soil next to the nutritionally challenged camellia. That way, the worms can escape into the soil if they need to. They always come back to where the food is. And the camellia can only benefit from the “worm wee” draining directly to its roots.
Did we act in time? I saw a couple of “live ones” as we conducted our rescue, so I hope so.
But this has raised a question for me. Why don’t they make worm farms out of white plastic instead of black? White reflects heat, and in a climate like ours that could make the difference between baked worms and healthy worms.
Tags: worm-farms, worms
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