Herd of Worms

I've always loved the idea of going bush and living the life of the Aussie Jackaroo, but sadly it was an impossible dream because I just don't have the legs for it, plus I look dreadful in an Akubra - it's my head, it's an odd shape or something.

As you might imagine, a family the size of ours produces huge amounts of waste, and not all of it can be flushed away.

To help minimize our carbon footprint we've three worm farms and two compost bins scattered around The Ranch (read as, our small suburban block).

We used to pay $150 extra a year to the local council for a second wheely bin - that's how much rubbish we made each week. Now we're down to a respectable single wheely bin and we're producing black liquid gold, which is like steroids for plants. Unfortunately, though, I think the kids have been watering the weeds instead of the plants because we're down to two tomato bushes but we've weeds in the grass which are leaning more towards shrubs.

A worm farm will cost you about $125 new, although you might be lucky and pick them up secondhand on ebay (why anyone would want to sell theirs is beyond me). Either way you'll get hooked. I've even named all my squirmy little wriggler mates - for simplicity's sake they're all called Doug.

We built up from a single farm, splitting the herd when it was thriving. Feeding them is just a matter of throwing in fruit and vege scraps, coffee grinds, tea bags and any cardboard as well (they break it down and also use it to breed in). Hardest thing about managing a herd of worms is trying to work out where to put the ear tags.

I love worm farming. It may not have the romance and image of the Jackaroo, but it does give me the opportunity to tell people I oversee 10,000 head.