June 30, 2015
(This is part of a 365 project
during my 70th years where I write and illustrate a blog on each
day’s gift.)
It’s not that I love earthworms so much but rather
the sensory awakening that occurs when they crawl onto the sidewalk after a
rain. I like the darkened drama of a summer storm—gray sky, cracking thunder, rhythmic
rain, earthy scent of freshly moistened soil. The gyrations of the annelid’s
tiny glistening body remind me of
the slithering of seasons through a lifetime and the comfort of seasonal
repetition.
I wonder why this creature has left its natural
surroundings for hard concrete. Many people believe it is to avoid drowning in
the rain but it was not in danger of drowning. The rain actually makes travel
easier for earthworms because they can move without drying out—a matter of life
and death for them. They breathe through their skin, which must remain wet for
oxygen to pass through it.
My high school biology class dissected a worm. At
that time, I thought it was the most uninteresting thing we could have
dissected. I missed most parts we were supposed to identify, with the exception
of the girdle, which is the organ near the middle of the body. I never learned
in high school science class that this is called a clitellum, which swells
and secretes nutritive liquid that makes reproduction possible. Was this too
delicate for an all-girls high school class in the 60’s? Our teacher missed
an opportunity to spice things up with a little sex and make us wonder if these
two words have anything in common—clitellum and clitoris.
My
gift today is a seasonal slither.
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You can find links to my other
posts on this project here: