A SILKEN INTERLUDE Part IIi

A SILKEN INTERLUDE

(Part II )

We soon established a routine. I was woken with a bowl of oatmeal porridge, milk still warm from the udder, and a large slice of barley bread. I soon discarded the lard spread. After a swift toilet, (I was permitted access to the gabbinetto, the two-footstepped ceramic hole in the ground just behind the kitchen, and the wash in the clear waters of the stream was cold but invigorating), my daily labour began. Lydia stripped leaves from the trees, Maria-Louisa shuttled between us with laden baskets which she emptied into the trough. I bunged and sliced, the shreds fell into a paraffin tin which was replaced when full; twice a day Lydia and I would rotate the trays, scattering fresh leaves over each one. They were not heavy, but quite big and a two-man operation was needed to restack them one by one as they were replenished. There were sixteen trays, each one numbered and accompanied by a tabular record providing the date the worms were hatched, the twenty seven days of feeding before crunched pieces of newspaper were strewn, giving crevices into which the worms (now caterpillars) would crawl to begin cocooning.
This brought no respite; although the cocoons required no food, the ancient Reo truck would wheeze up the hill, bringing the next sixteen trays, a new set of numbers, a new batch of hungry worms; I bunged and sliced again. Lydia kept the record in a surprisingly neat hand - each day of each tray, and its feedings meticulously recorded. This lasted about ten to twelve weeks, although there was talk of breeding a hybrid worm that would enable two, or even three, crops per year. I shuddered at the thought.