I first posted on our efforts of finding wild red wrigglers and the box I built to house them in on October 2, 2016. I left the box with the worms inside outside by the woodshed for the winter and hoped for the best. It was a cold winter and at times I wondered how the 140 plus worms we had found were doing. I waited until early spring before looking inside. When I lifted off the lid and smelled the rich aroma of earth I knew that the worms were doing fine. I left them with a large bucket of kitchen scraps and a small pail of cut up, soaked recycled paper. Apparently there are 700 - 800 breeding worms in a pound. (Breeding worms are the big ones with bands around them- they are in the picture.) I saw lots of breeding worms in our box - far more than what we had found last fall to put in. To me there is something incredibly beautiful about the sensuous rawness of nature's rhythms.
Some days all I hear is wind and the far off roar of the sea. When it is quiet I hear song sparrows, kinglets and robins. I rake and gather branches and cones shed from winter winds. This forest is my work place. I have worked here for years and it has shaped me in a way that is hard to define. I watch my young daughter gathering conifer cones and than she drops them into a red squirrel cache under a stump beside a large midden pile. I don't attend church but in this space I feel something far greater beyond myself and my work becomes sacred. My heart lifts toward my Creator in prayer and thanksgiving. Yet everything is not serene. I have a recurring shoulder injury that has reignited and many days I am not here. I know He hasn't brought me this far - only to abandon me. With a quiet, simple faith I wait to see where He is leading me.