05-17-2022, 02:13 PM
Mable couldn't tell if Father Brennan changing the subject from church was for her sake or for his. Was her hesitance about the idea so obvious in her voice? Or did the priest not want to think about it more than he already had to? Either way, Mable only had a slight idea of what made mass different from Sunday services, and she didn't bother asking for clarification. Worms were much more important to her.
"They're very small, you see, Father," she began, her voice brighter now that she was on the subject. "But they're very important. They keep the dirt clean and help plants grow. If there's no worms in your dirt, you're not likely to grow much of anything."
That was what she remembered at least. Her lessons in Pennsylvania were... abnormal at best, both in circumstances and curriculum, but she treasured the knowledge all the same.
"Also, they're very slimy and wriggly. They can wiggle right out of your hand if you're not careful. When it rains, they come up in the grass to breathe. Sometimes they get washed away from the dirt, though, so after it rains you have to go around and pick them up and put them back in the dirt. My brother and I would do that every time it rained. We must have saved more than a hundred - or maybe even a thousand worms doing that!"
Saving the worms after storms were one of the only good things to happen when it rained. Mable hated the rain so much, all the more for the stress it must cause the poor worms, but she learned the best techniques for picking them up and holding them and setting them back in the dirt during the post storm rituals.
"Those are my thoughts, at least. What's your best creature, Father? Is it a worm too, now?"
"They're very small, you see, Father," she began, her voice brighter now that she was on the subject. "But they're very important. They keep the dirt clean and help plants grow. If there's no worms in your dirt, you're not likely to grow much of anything."
That was what she remembered at least. Her lessons in Pennsylvania were... abnormal at best, both in circumstances and curriculum, but she treasured the knowledge all the same.
"Also, they're very slimy and wriggly. They can wiggle right out of your hand if you're not careful. When it rains, they come up in the grass to breathe. Sometimes they get washed away from the dirt, though, so after it rains you have to go around and pick them up and put them back in the dirt. My brother and I would do that every time it rained. We must have saved more than a hundred - or maybe even a thousand worms doing that!"
Saving the worms after storms were one of the only good things to happen when it rained. Mable hated the rain so much, all the more for the stress it must cause the poor worms, but she learned the best techniques for picking them up and holding them and setting them back in the dirt during the post storm rituals.
"Those are my thoughts, at least. What's your best creature, Father? Is it a worm too, now?"
