Wormholes
The buzz these days in the astrophysics world is about wormholes. As you know, wormholes theoretically are tunnels out there in the cosmos here and there that can connect this space and time with a far distant space and time. Sort of like right now is tomorrow relative to last Thursday.
If I understand it correctly, it’s like I could go back in time and watch Matt Dillon and Miss Kitty on the set of Gunsmoke, or bring soup to Shakespeare while he’s slogging through Hamlet… things like that.
However, a conundrum for theoretical physicists (who have equations for dreams and logarithms for snacks) is that predictions indicate the front side of a wormhole closely resembles the front side of a black hole, which is one of those spots in the cosmos where things like light and matter enter but never leave, like in Hotel California. It’s important to know the hole difference because you don’t want to jump into the wrong one.
Physicists in Spain and Bulgaria –folks who eat General Relativity for breakfast – have conjectured a way to visually distinguish a wormhole from a black hole, so we can all relax just a bit.
I have known about wormholes since I was a kid. For example, in Algebra II class, Mr. Ferguson would be explaining last night’s homework and I would enter a wormhole which put me on stage with the Spencer Davis Group, and I’d even start humming, or I’d sit by a mountain stream until the bell rang.
Nevertheless, there are other wormholes to discuss, and they are in our gardens. The fertility and friability of our garden soils depend on worms and the holes they make.
Earthworms and their 22,000 close relatives are in the phylum Annelida. Think about how different creatures chose to evolve: some big and toothy and scary, some with colorful wings, some become house cats. Humble earthworms burrow in soil and eat decaying plant matter for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
The sophisticated digestive system of earthworms concentrates the plant material they eat so what they leave behind is richer in nutrients than the surrounding soil. Some gardeners even create worm farms, so they have easy access to the worm castings.
A container with adequate drainage stocked with layers of organic materials such as leaves, grass clippings and slightly damp shredded newsprint would make a satisfactory medium for a worm farm. Stir in leftover plant parts from the kitchen. Repeat. Experienced worm ranchers prefer red worms over nightcrawlers for the best worm castings.
Also, all that wiggling through soil leaves looser avenues for roots, plus they get the benefit of the castings. Because the soil is more friable, minerals are absorbed more easily, and aeration improves.
Gardeners who paid attention through the years sang loud and long about the benefits of earthworms in garden soil, so scientists and folks who like to measure things also paid attention. Researchers in New Zealand and Tasmania introduced earthworms into worm-free fields and measured a 70 percent increase in plant growth in those pastures the first year.
A gardener can encourage an earthworm activity by catering to their lifestyle. Regularly add plant material to the soil because it regulates soil temperature and worms appreciate that. Also, only shallow cultivation so that worms having a tea party are not disturbed. Worms want you to know that tough as they are and happy enough to be wiggling through dirt, they don’t mind being pampered… and they don’t abide soil too dry or too cold.
When the ground starts getting cold, this is what you’d hear down a wormhole:
“Martha . . .”
“Yes, Herb?”
“It’s time to estivate.”
Slight pause. “Okay, I’ll get my purse,” and off they went. Estivation is worm hibernation where they go farther below the cold, cold ground and curl up in a ball for the winter. They’ll be back when the weather suits them.