I rescue earthworms.
Not a job description, not a hobby, just a tender thought for some vulnerable little creature that’s got itself into a whole heap of trouble.
After all, a drying pavement after rain, a cement path heated up by a cheeky bit of winter sun, can be an Everest for this small chap.
He’s an important part of our cycle of life, this slimy little brown fellow I’m holding between my fingers. He doesn’t know it and that’s okay too, for none of us can really see the entirety of life on earth. We only see our small part of it and, like the unknowing, unknowable earthworm, we just try to make our patch a little better. He burrows down, loosening the soil and turning it from arid to fertile in a couple of gulps. He feeds the birds too, although I doubt he likes that bit very much.
We humans have our role to play as well. We are like a pebble dropping into the water, watching the ripples spread and hoping that our small deed reaches out to the wider world and makes it a better place.
So, I pick him up and he curls in defense, writhing his small shape to catch at my rescuing hand.
He doesn’t know I’m not into eating earthworms.
I look around for a place where he may be safe, walk the garden to find a sheltered spot and put him down very gently among the strawberries and marigolds, hoping he gets a few more hours to enjoy the dampened soil before some bird spots him and has him for lunch.
So, if you see a little old grey-haired lady wondering around, bent almost double and peering at the ground, and if she’s picking up earthworms, that’s just me doing my bit.
Extract from Te Aroha conversations: in the garden
Available October 2018 from this website
Not a job description, not a hobby, just a tender thought for some vulnerable little creature that’s got itself into a whole heap of trouble.
After all, a drying pavement after rain, a cement path heated up by a cheeky bit of winter sun, can be an Everest for this small chap.
He’s an important part of our cycle of life, this slimy little brown fellow I’m holding between my fingers. He doesn’t know it and that’s okay too, for none of us can really see the entirety of life on earth. We only see our small part of it and, like the unknowing, unknowable earthworm, we just try to make our patch a little better. He burrows down, loosening the soil and turning it from arid to fertile in a couple of gulps. He feeds the birds too, although I doubt he likes that bit very much.
We humans have our role to play as well. We are like a pebble dropping into the water, watching the ripples spread and hoping that our small deed reaches out to the wider world and makes it a better place.
So, I pick him up and he curls in defense, writhing his small shape to catch at my rescuing hand.
He doesn’t know I’m not into eating earthworms.
I look around for a place where he may be safe, walk the garden to find a sheltered spot and put him down very gently among the strawberries and marigolds, hoping he gets a few more hours to enjoy the dampened soil before some bird spots him and has him for lunch.
So, if you see a little old grey-haired lady wondering around, bent almost double and peering at the ground, and if she’s picking up earthworms, that’s just me doing my bit.
Extract from Te Aroha conversations: in the garden
Available October 2018 from this website
Hello, I'm Jenny. I live in New Zealand with my husband, Howard, and a teen-aged cat called Anzac - you know the sort, sleeps in 'til midday, grabs the car-keys and parties all night. (The cat at the top of the page is Scrap who left us three years ago and is still sadly missed.) I love reading, playing classical guitar, cats in general and the colour turquoise. I hate the PC Nazis (which you'll notice in my more humorous books). I am a member of the Te Aroha Writing Group that meets fortnightly to share, critique and slap each other on the back when we get it right.
I have another few books in the chute. After the encouraging and resounding success of Out of Poland and The Lives of Alice Pothron - both WWII stories - I am researching another two Polish stories; each a different aspect of the wartime tragedy that took place in that country.
I've been writing for twenty years and plan on another twenty; so stick around!
If you don't like using Amazon feel free to buy directly from me. Just email me from this website (go to the Contact page). All books are $25.00 (NZ dollar) plus postage. I tend to send out books the same day I receive an order. (I'm funny that way.)
I have another few books in the chute. After the encouraging and resounding success of Out of Poland and The Lives of Alice Pothron - both WWII stories - I am researching another two Polish stories; each a different aspect of the wartime tragedy that took place in that country.
I've been writing for twenty years and plan on another twenty; so stick around!
If you don't like using Amazon feel free to buy directly from me. Just email me from this website (go to the Contact page). All books are $25.00 (NZ dollar) plus postage. I tend to send out books the same day I receive an order. (I'm funny that way.)
|
The Siegel family of New Zealand knew nothing of their relatives until we opened the suitcase that had been hidden under the house for forty years. We discovered the story of a family who lived in a small Polish town and whose lives were snuffed out when Hitler and his German Army rampaged through Poland in 1939.
This book returned their family to them and gave them a history. This book will give you a clear idea of the war in Poland, the suffering of both Jews and Gentiles and the heroism of those who saved the Jews from extinction. It is now available at Amazon.com or through this website. |
|
The fortunes of writers depend on readers. If you like a book, please review it and give this writer not only a terrific buzz but also the opportunity to appeal to other readers. Places where you can write a review: www,smashwords.com www.amazon.com www.goodreads.com |
