Vermicelli, Rancho Del Mar style

OK, I'm warning you right at the outset that this post is not for the squeamish or faint of stomach.  I freely admit it's the kind of thing only a former biology teacher might appreciate.  But I'm posting it anyway.  It's part of your education.  Incidentally, did you know vermicelli literally means "little worms"? It really does.   

First off, let's look at some plants growing here at our house.

For instance, how about this happy, healthy fern?

Or this one...

Or this one...

Now look at this sad little guy...

Looks like he needs a shot of whatever those other ferns are getting, right?

In order to give him what he needs, I needed to get some worm compost from my little worm farm.  To separate the worms from the compost, I put a couple shovelfuls of worms + compost into a plastic tray with a grid on the bottom. 

Here's a closeup in case you're wondering if that really is a ball of worms.

 Then I put the tray/soil/worms in the wheelbarrow with a little soil in it.  And park them in a light area (not direct sunlight).  The worms hate the light and dive (I'm not exaggerating) through the holes in the plastic grid to get into the shade of the dirt below.  Thirty minutes or so later, there is only nice composted soil in the tray.  Repot sad little fern with this soil and in a few weeks he'll perk up.  Return worms to the worm box to continue their soil-producing work.  

Look at the beautiful soil they produce!

(Worms were escaping between my fingers while I tried to snap that shot.)

Looks almost like beautiful Illinois topsoil, doesn't it?  

I started my worm enterprise with a few red wiggler worms I found under a large potted fig tree at the townhouse we first moved to here in LA.  How did I know they were red wigglers?  They were red.  And they wiggled.  I went to college to learn stuff like that.  From that modest handful of worms there have come millions of worms that I've shared with a few other crazy people.  Worm power.  Awesome.  Or Eeewew-some.