Gusanos
by Judy Eron
W orm box
A
s I scoop my hands into my com-
post, within seconds I have
worms threading themselves
through my fingers. I lift a handful
out—they’re so light that I barely feel
them as they try to find their way back
into the darkness, into the dark rich
material they themselves have created.
There are so many of them, some large
and pink and succulent, some tiny, thin
24
Cenizo
Second Quarter 2018
Rocky with his gusanos
as thread, barely visible.
My only previous experience with
worms was in years past, as a child buy-
ing a small cardboard container full of
worms for fishing, then trying to secure
them on the end of a hook. Now think-
ing of the little guys in that container, all
wrapped around each other with no
organic matter to keep them comfort-
able, let alone being gored with a hook,
I feel bad. My worms of today never
know an uncomfortable day in their
lives.
I was introduced to my worms by
Perry and Lester, my neighbors on
Terlingua Ranch.
They had a plastic tub full of dirt,
with worms they used for fishing. I had
started a little bit of vegetable gardening,
a challenge on this rainless Terlingua