The Immigrant

It rained for eight straight days last week (and, technically, the week before).

One morning, during that period, I opened my back door to let my dog outside and discovered a fat nightcrawler on my back sill, looking for a way in. I felt a little badly for them; it was really wet.

Still. Nightcrawlers don’t belong in the house, generally. I deported them to the bricks around my flowerbed: above the water, but close to the earth.

The next day, I went to let my dog out, and my nightcrawler friend was back. This time, they’d made it all the way under the rubber sweeps at the bottom of the door, and were under my dining table, looking slightly dried out, but still wriggling.

That is one determined worm, y’all.

I gotta admire that kind of determination.

So, I granted them refugee status and relocated them to the potted lemon tree that is currently taking refuge from the winter weather in my dining room.

So far, they have been quiet and nondestructive, which is really all I require in a neighbor.

The sun came out yesterday. Things are better for all of the worms now. And the lemon tree can return to the back patio soon, so if my immigrant nightcrawler wants to return to their native soil, they’ll have that chance.

Enjoy the sunshine, y’all!