Wiggling...

Take a gardening conversation out of context and it takes on a completely new meaning:  I've got worms.  Pardon.  Yes, lots of them.  Pardon. Pardon?  You heard.

See what I mean? Not your standard socially acceptable dialogue, is it?  However, I'm actually very pleased to reveal that I have got worms. Earthworms. Annelids. Lots of them.  Whole families - at least little ones and large ones. (At this point, I was going to offer more info via Wikipedia but, trust me, it's not what you want to be reading before dinnertime.  Let's just say they're not your typical nuclear family.)

Two years ago, we set up the veg patch with raised beds (guessing that the soil underneath would be fairly rubbish after a couple of decades of growing rose bushes and cotoneaster), but one patch was left as bare earth and I tipped my emptied potato sacks on there last autumn.  Digging it over ready to relocate my strawberries and (hopefully) put in some melons, I had to be very careful where I was spiking the soil with my fork.  Every clod revealed wiggling worms which, as we all know, is very good news indeed.  Unless you're a worm.  Perhaps it's no surprise that, in the quiet of the early morning, I had plenty of company in the shape of sparrows, coal tits and starlings!  (At least, I think that's what they were; I'm certainly no ornithologist.)

I'm lucky as I can hear birdsong most of the day. There are several trees near my windows and, throughout the day, I can listen to - and see - robins, coal and blue tits and wood pigeons (as well as normal city pigeons, but let's not go there).