by Karla Hein
I’ve been thinking about earthworms lately.
Particularly, I’ve wondered about the shock experienced by the earthworm that was stretched end to end by the inquisitive fingers of my five-year-old in our garden a few weeks ago. Or the one that was scooped from the familiarity of the strawberry patch by a red plastic shovel and abruptly expelled from the garden. Would it ever find its way back? Or did it even care, simply grateful that the sharp beak of a hungry robin hadn’t carried it away?