Sunday's worm transplant

We returned well laden from a trip to Lucy’s and Pete’s) (Matt’s sister and her husband) in the Cotswolds. The un-seasonable midsummer weather that didn’t deter us from midsummer gatherings which included:

1. 1kg goosegogs from Lucy and Pete’s garden (I think that Pete is mainly responsible for the garden)
2. 18 eggs from Pete’s mum Lorna
3. 2kg of cherries that I forgotten that we’d bought from a food market at a conservation charity's property 
4. 4 tomato plants (also from Pete’s garden)
5. 1 bag of worm dense compost from Pete’s compost bin

(keep an eye out on Slack Lasagne for updates on items 1, 2 and 3)

Maturing bright lights chard

We also nearly came home with some with rhubarb until I pointed out to Pete that what he thought was rhubarb was actually swiss chard variety rhubarb red. I was slightly embarrassed in pointing this out given Pete’s agricultural credentials but since I am having success with my swiss chard variety bright lights and there would be little space in our courtyard garden for more of this type of crop.

We had purchased a wormery online back in March but as yet had been insufficiently organised to acquire the worms that were needed to power it. The system is that you set up your wormery and then order the worms by mail order once their home is prepared. We saved up peelings etc on a number of occasions over the last few months and never got around to ordering said worms so ended up discarding the waste in the normal way when we couldn’t stand the smell any more.

This weekend I was on a mission since the company we had purchased the wormery from was Cotswold based and I had a plan to collect some worms in person. So I left an answerphone message on Saturday morning with my request. For the rest of Saturday I was very excited every time that my phone (or indeed anyone else’s’ since I have a popular ring tone) rang. But come the afternoon I was so desperate for a nap that I turned it off for an hour. When I awoke I had an answerphone message myself and my dreams of worms were shattered. Apparently the worms are dispatched from Yorkshire.

Fortunately Pete came to the rescue and told us all about how his compost bin was full of worms. I was a bit wary because I know that you’re supposed to use a special type of worm.

A camera shy worm

So I did a quick search of the interweb search for an image of an appropriate worm. I shared this with Pete who assured me that his were the right type of worm. It’s a shame that there’s not some home worm DNA sequencing test to check their pedigree but I was happy to give it a go.

Worm extraction

So on Sunday morning Matt, my husband, helped Pete extract some worm rich compost and package it; we all hoped they would survive the 130 mile trip southwest-wards. Matt and I stopped off for a bit of cheeky department store shopping on the way home so the worms’ welfare was in even more peril.

It was with great anticipation that I unpacked the worms from their sack into the wormery. The first test of the enterprise had been passed as the worms had travelled apparently unscathed. Now all that remains to be seen is whether they are the right sort of worm and start making lots of lovely worm juice for us.

Initiating the wormery

House design makes the
wormery look nice in the garden

The wormery after a feeding

While I was in the garden I harvested our first home grown salad of baby spinach and rocket, to go with our toasted sandwiches. It was a good job that I investigated the rocket as it had become water-logged. It wasn’t until last week when I planted some strawberries that I knew anything about making holes in the lining of hanging baskets. So today I urgently tipped off the water from the rocket basket (this has made me think about growing watercress next year) and pricked a load of holes in it with an extended craft knife (this was the only thing I could find that was pokey enough to get through the hanging basket). Hopefully I have averted potential rocket failure – from this perspective at least – I did have to launch a number of snails over the garden wall and I fear that these may be my greatest challenge.