The Conservational Gardener

By Nanny Fontanella

As The Worm Turns

Ami was run over last month by a truck driver going too fast on our road. She was waiting by the gate for my husband, Bob.

She was the kind of cat that thanked you before eating, chased snowballs in the winter and played hide and seek for hours. We miss her terribly, and although there is certainly no replacement, I do enjoy spending time with my worms.

Worms are not cuddly; neither was Ami, but when she leaned her body against me, I was filled with a wonderful sense of well-being. The pleasure associated with worm farming and the 15,000 specimens of the lubricus rubellus that live with us is centered on eating.

I have a confession to make. It gives me great pleasure to feed others, and my wormies (as they’re collectively known) eat the leftovers with gusto. Brown rice with sauteed vegetables is their favorite. They don’t like pasta but enjoy the sauce. They’re devoted to coffee grounds, tea bags and fruit, especially watermelon and strawberries, but refuse to eat banana, orange and potato peels. They don’t like corn cobs (after they’ve finished the corn), but enjoy a good burlap bag moistened to keep them cool. They don’t get bones, meat or fish, so I’m ignorant of their preference in this regard.

	Drawing by Nanny Fontanella The most beautiful, humusy soil is made by my worms.

The most beautiful, humusy soil is made by my worms. Unlike chickens, which resent having their eggs stolen, worms just clump together at the bottom of the bin when the compost is harvested. A few wander off, but these guys have my heart so every effort is made to find them before it’s too late (dum de dum dum).

There is no odor associated with worm farming. I keep covered bins in the downstairs bathroom since wormies are happiest in the dark at 50 to 74 degrees Fahrenheit. A new worm bin can be made from a Styrofoam cooler bought at the local mega supermarket for about $2 to $3. Use the rectangle on the outer bottom surface as a guide to cut a hole, and stab the sides and top with an awl for ventilation. Drape a 6-inch piece of nylon screening (sold by the yard at the hardware store) along the sides of the inner surface.

Fill this area with moistened coir or peat moss mixed with two handfuls of pelletized limestone (not lime) and a 1/4 cup of dirt (add a handful of limestone to each feeding).

Place a pail under the worm farm to catch excess moisture, which is a liquid fertilizer for plants.

Night crawlers (earth worms) will languish and die in a worm farm bin. Red (composting) worms are the ticket and can be purchased online. One pound (what you need to get started) costs $30 or more plus shipping. Red worms are also sold at bait shops for relatively cheap. Watch for fungal gnats; they lay eggs in the bedding. If no-see-ums fly at me when the cover is opened, I make sure it’s fitting tightly, and I cut down on feedings, keep the farm free of excess moisture and add extra limestone to alkalize the situation since gnats prefer an acidic environment.

If you have any questions, suggestions or comments, write to asknanny@riverreporter.com.