Do you remember when E.T. went from his normal/healthy pinkish-brown pallor to that terrible pastey deathly white when he nearly died?
(Don't pretend you don't remember... I know you cried). Well that's what has happened to all the earth worms here.
It has been bucketing down heavy rain here for 3 days straight now. There comes a point where the ground fills up with water, and to prevent themselves from drowning all the worms start wiggling their way to dry land.
(I assume, do worms breath air?)
They've arrived, exhausted, waterlogged and pastey, on our veranda's, the front porch, inside the garage, and underneath the darkness of our doormat. And when I say "they" I mean LOADS of them.
Mr You launched a rescue and retrieval mission yesterday, relocating the survivors into dry potted plants, and removing those who hadn't made it. Sadly, we discovered some that were washed straight into the swimming pool. And when I say "some" I mean, ooh, about 50 or 60!
(All together now, eeeewwww).
I watched as Mr You scooped them all out and checked to see if they were alive. At one point he nudged one so many times, from where I stood inside our dry house, I thought he was giving it CPR.
He came inside afterwards sodden and saddened, saying he just didn't like seeing so much death.
While other men of the nation were watching the football grand final, mine was rescuing worms. And, oddly, that makes me so proud.
We have a long history of rescuing slimy creatures together. I must tell you about it sometime...