After a heavy rainstorm a few weeks back we had some worms appear on the concrete patio in our shared backyard. Jax and David had gone out to play in the yard and came back upstairs with tales of worm saving.
"One of them was as big as a banana," Jax informed me (not exactly sure what meant). I think at that point they had found and rescued 3 worms. Picked them up off the hot concrete, where they would quickly dry out, and deposited them back in the garden soil, under shade.
For the rest of the weekend Jax kept a vigil by looking out his bedroom window to see if he could spot anymore, which he actually did (bless 4 year-old eyesight that can spot a worm two stories down). I was dragged out (down the basement steps, wrestle with the backyard door, up the jagged concrete steps) to the yard on two occasions and I believe our worm-saving count was 7 all told. He told David and me, "I'm very proud of myself for my work today."
Jax knows that worms are important for the soil (thank you Diary of a Worm!) and was very disturbed after a Spring rainstorm to realize they could bake out in the sun after being flooded out of their homes. And this particular worm saving episode had particular import due to the recent passing of one of our cats. Jax, as he does with so much, took his knowledge of mortality very much to heart.
So at the end of our last worm expedition, after we'd checked all the pathways and patio to make sure we'd saved every worm we could, Jax looks at me and says, "You know, I think I'm a god. The Worm God!"
(Before this little tale comes to an end it might be worth mentioning that David and Jax have spent the summer reading The New Gods.)
(And I am now notified every time I miss stepping on an ant on the sidewalk...)
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