Good Morning - As I've referenced, there have been lots of opportunities lately and lots of potential for growth. Both grasshoppers and locusts represent transformation and joyous leaps into the unknown. That's the esoteric level of things.
So, it's kind of like the cute images of baby sheep, cows, and chickens that other parts of the country equate with Spring and its birth explosion, only it's not-so-cute images of larvae, pupae, flying beetles as big as hummingbirds, and winged needles dripping with itchy poison and West Nile.
Lovely.
Let me introduce you to some of this season's celebrity bugs:
Palo Verde Beetle - when flying, could be mistaken for a hummingbird by its size, but is a much slower and clumsier pilot, which makes it that much more likely that it'll crash into your head and get stuck in your hair. Imagine the emotion shift from "Ohh...look! A hummingbird" to "Oh, God! That's the biggest bug I've ever seen. Gross."
Fire Ant - small, seemingly harmless sugar-ant looking creatures that quickly take over your yard and swarm enemies with legions of soldiers ready to inject their burning, stinging, itchy poison repeatedly until victory is secured. Often this "enemy" is your flip-flop clad foot and you don't know you're under attack until you feel the fire (thus the name) from their poison setting your flesh aflame.
Mosquito - certainly not a regional celebrity or particularly unusual - until you consider that this is the desert where there (normally) isn't enough water to sustain life, let alone harbor mosquito colonies. The rains, sadly, change all of that. Because, though, the water here comes in puddles, patches and humidity-made obsolete swamp coolers, these flying poison needles have to be creative where they breed, seeking out the most stable of potential birthing ponds.
Often this translates into the drip pan of your home's swamp cooler, which results in them coming into the home through the swamp cooler vents, which are nice and still since you can't run the swamp with the humidity as high as it is. Once inside, they seem fond of hanging out around the electrical cords of one's computer where they can feast on the bare, stationary feet of Internet users.
Cicada - Ah, here we are finally with one of the more community focused and less alarming of the bugs birthed during the monsoons. During the heat of the summer day, the mesquite and Palo Verde trees seem to be singing with an intense buzzing, the likes of which would make for a highly effective car alarm. The buzzing comes from the hundreds of cicadas (a.k.a. locust, katydid) camped on the tree branches, attempting to lure the ladies to their lairs before they shuffle off their brief mortal coil. As part of the come on, they dress in their most brilliant and iridescent green jackets and work to out-whistle the other boys.
I keep coming across these little Romeos lately - on the clothesline while I hung clothes and dodged fire ants, on the sidewalk at work while I walked to lunch and swatted mosquitoes, etc - so much so that I finally looked up what their message was. When I saw that it was the same as grasshopper, I smiled, thanked the bug for its message and went back to dodging the less helpful winged wonders currently abounding.
I could certainly use a transformative leap right now - Hell, I'd even take some astral travel - so I am happy to study these little creatures to see what their ways can teach me. I'll start my lessons by including their image on the Virgen along with their joyous leaping cousin, the grasshopper. Their images are laid over a shot of Denali because who wouldn't want to transport themselves to that beauty - especially when it's hot, humid, muggy, and buggy where one currently is?
If we find me crouched on a Palo Verde branch wearing green lame and attempting to whistle as loudly as I can (which would be interesting since I can't whistle at all), we'll know that I've forgotten the value of symbolism and need a serious intervention.
Here's to tangible wonders that lead to transformative leaping.
Often this translates into the drip pan of your home's swamp cooler, which results in them coming into the home through the swamp cooler vents, which are nice and still since you can't run the swamp with the humidity as high as it is. Once inside, they seem fond of hanging out around the electrical cords of one's computer where they can feast on the bare, stationary feet of Internet users.
Cicada - Ah, here we are finally with one of the more community focused and less alarming of the bugs birthed during the monsoons. During the heat of the summer day, the mesquite and Palo Verde trees seem to be singing with an intense buzzing, the likes of which would make for a highly effective car alarm. The buzzing comes from the hundreds of cicadas (a.k.a. locust, katydid) camped on the tree branches, attempting to lure the ladies to their lairs before they shuffle off their brief mortal coil. As part of the come on, they dress in their most brilliant and iridescent green jackets and work to out-whistle the other boys.
I keep coming across these little Romeos lately - on the clothesline while I hung clothes and dodged fire ants, on the sidewalk at work while I walked to lunch and swatted mosquitoes, etc - so much so that I finally looked up what their message was. When I saw that it was the same as grasshopper, I smiled, thanked the bug for its message and went back to dodging the less helpful winged wonders currently abounding.
I could certainly use a transformative leap right now - Hell, I'd even take some astral travel - so I am happy to study these little creatures to see what their ways can teach me. I'll start my lessons by including their image on the Virgen along with their joyous leaping cousin, the grasshopper. Their images are laid over a shot of Denali because who wouldn't want to transport themselves to that beauty - especially when it's hot, humid, muggy, and buggy where one currently is?
If we find me crouched on a Palo Verde branch wearing green lame and attempting to whistle as loudly as I can (which would be interesting since I can't whistle at all), we'll know that I've forgotten the value of symbolism and need a serious intervention.
Here's to tangible wonders that lead to transformative leaping.
This is one of our cats, Squeak. She must have had a hard night, because she spent most of the morning conked out with her paw over her eyes. Yes, her belly really is that plush. I'd say she's "shy" about sharing the plushness of her belly, but shy people don't usually bite, claw, and hiss when they feel uncomfortable.
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