Walking With Worms . . .

A couple of weeks ago, I mentioned how pleased I was to find that the worm population of central Iowa was alive and writhingly thriving, considering that they had to survive the brutal, frigid temps of winter - sleeping naked without so much as a flannel sheet between their long, vulnerable bodies and the solid block of frozen mud the earth had become.  Their bodies were long and winter-thin as they stretched across the sidewalk after an early dawn rain and we stepped gingerly around them.  I didn't see much else that morning because I was constantly on the lookout - I really hate stepping on them and feeling that gritty squish under the soles of my sneakers . . .

No trouble spying the worms this morning, I can tell you - some of those suckers are as long as my arm from elbow to wrist and they're as big around as my little finger.  Evading them was the issue.  I learned very quickly to step over anything that even remotely resembled a big, thick twig, glistening with rain in the light from nearby streetlamps.  These aren't just earthworms, people - these are nightcrawlers of the first order and their scent is of earth and rain and somehow, I smelled lakes and ponds and fish scales, too . . . but maybe that's because I had both of my fishing rods and reels newly cleaned and equipped with fresh line last week?  Mmmmm . . . fresh bass . . . crispy hushpuppies tender with cornmeal and scallions . . .

Yes.  I'm the kind of person who can look at a slimy wet worm on the sidewalk and taste delicate fried fish on my tongue instantly.  So what?  Happy rainy Monday!  :-)