Awakening

I feel ladybugs crawling on me. But they're not.

That was an hour ago when I vacuumed another 200 or so off the south window. It's almost dark now. Now they're gathering around lights. So I've left the florescent on in the laundry room as a lure. It's working. I'll have to empty the bag before midnight.

We have become accustomed to their company throughout winter, since that first sunny day after the first cold night last fall when they stopped what they were doing and headed for shelter.

What they were doing was feasting on soft-bodied insects, like aphids. We have a field full of asters and goldenrod, hence a lot of aphids, hence a lot of ladybugs. I'd tell you more about them --they're immigrants, you know-- but this is not the Bug Blog, and I am not the Electronic Entomologist, so we'll just say we don't mind them much because: 1. they might also eat woolly adelgids, another invasive species that has been attacking the native hemlocks; 2. we have no choice, they're here to  stay; 3. they'll all be outside soon anyway.

So we consider the end of their dormancy an indicator of spring. Just like the snow fence rolled and stacked by township workers. Just like the female blackbird piping at us from the willow bush when we approach the pond, which mean she's building her nest in the cattails. And just like the water striders scooting about on the surface tension of the pond, looking for a catch.

I could go on about water striders, too -- perhaps another time. For now we'll just add them to the list of the rejuvenated. We're on it, too, and easily pleased. How happy it makes us to walk around the yard picking up sticks. Or to stand amazed under the stars, shaking out our filter bags.

copyright 2010 J. O'Brien, all rights reserved