Blog Archive

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Chatting with Earthworms


Was raking weeds from the sugarsnap pea bed when I looked over at Beatrix, who mucks around, eating dirt and what-not, and spotted the LARGEST spider I've ever seen (out of the tropics) poised on her chest. I quickly cultivated it off of her chest with the rake, all the time saying in a strained voice: "Oh! It's okay, it's okay!" And then I stripped her down to check for spider bites. Nothing there. It occurred to me later that, contrary to my reaction of horror, the spider could have been a friendly sort of presence, maybe a blessing animal, albeit one that I do not like to see on my baby.

We've started explaining to the earthworms as we till the soil, "We are turning the soil to feed our family. Thank you for your help, and we apologize in advance if we harm you with our shovel. In turn, we will feed you and your family."

I think they understand. Or at least I hope they do, since I have inadvertently sliced a few in half in an effort to dig a big enough hole for our fruit trees. My comfort is that they are AMAZING WEIRD ANIMALS and chopping them in half does not send them to the next world. The girls love them, too, and fight with the fat robins about who gets to pull them from the upturned earth. They are under strict instructions to BE GENTLE, since our earthworms are some of our dearest gardening friends.

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They must understand more or equally as much as the children, ONE in particular who seems to have her ears full of PEEPS.

Overheard tonight at the Cockroft house, where Elspeth had performed yet another flip by the baby on the trampoline:

"Elspeth! When will you start LISTENING?"

Elspeth, head down in the carpet from her time-out position. "Um, Saturday."

I can hardly wait for SATURDAY!
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These pictures are for my mother, to whom we send many kisses and the message: YOU SURE MARRIED A HANDSOME FELLA!


Dr. Long never looked so good.

We could send you Beatrix to help you unload your dishwasher. . .

Or perhaps you'd rather have Elspea, who has shown a flair for cutting (her own) hair. . .I'm sure she'd love to take a gander at yours. . .which reminds me of the best quote overheard at the Cockroft house lately: DON'T GET YOUR GANDER UP!

This ties with Elspeth's version of a wounded butterfly: a butterflap.