Worm composting, or vermiculture, is wriggling its way into the hearts of families and cities across the country. Gardeners have known about it for decades, but now committed recyclers and even local governments are turning wormward to make use of the organic material that accounts for 15 to 30 percent of all garbage. This ecological boon is what elevates worm bins, as they are called, above pet-shop oddities like ant farms. Red worms (especially Eisenia foetida) work the best; garden-variety night crawlers don’t compost. The plastic or wooden box, kept under the sink or the kitchen table, is filled with banana peels, last night’s pizza crust, even nail clippings and hair. Microorganisms break down the scraps, the red worms eat the organisms, and the worms’ “castings” – a polite word for worm poop – form a gourmet soil supplement.
Entire cities are getting into the act. Vancouver sells worm bins, wrigglers included, at half price: even-hipper Seattle gives them away. In New York, where people are leery of bringing another creepy-crawly critter into their apartments, worms are for sale at gardening co-ops on the Lower East Side. Besides being ecologically correct, vermiculture benefits urbanites, says Tom Richard, a biologist at Cornell University, by “bringing nature into their homes.”
Don’t laugh. “People do get pretty emotional” about their worms, says Mary Appelhof, whose 1982 book, “Worms Eat My Garbage,” sells about 15,000 copies a year. The fascination seems to be global: the quarterly “Worm Digest” sold 10,000 copies of a recent issue in 20 countries.
Sure, home vermiculture has negatives: compost boxes can attract fruit flies or rats. The worms stop working in the cold. And if the box doesn’t get enough air, it starts to smell – we’re talking about decomposing garbage, after all. Betty Crocker probably wouldn’t approve, but your 9-year-old will.
