The Ant Wife

 In Aesop's fable of the Grasshopper and the Ant, the Grasshopper enjoys the summer sun, singing merrily without a care in the world, while the Ant toils, taking care of today's work and putting away food stores for the winter. And at the end of the fable, when the cold weather begins, Ant is well-prepared, while Grasshopper suffers. (Most re-tellings have Ant closing the door in Grasshopper's face after scolding Grasshopper for not preparing adequately. It is a bit cruel. But most fables and fairy-tales of old are.) Moral as old as time: work hard and plan for eventualities and possibilities. Don't put off what should be done; take care of business before pleasure. 

This has been my modus operandi for as long as I can remember. Do the Things. Take care of Stuff. Business before Pleasure. Always -- as a student, as an employee, and in relationships, too. 

I am an Ant Wife. 

I have always done what is best for the Family. I am the Wife that the Offspring need as a mother. I am the Wife that changed careers entirely (including The Task) for the benefit of the family unit. I am the Wife that maintains the household, pays the bills, buys the groceries, takes the pets to the vet, tends to all the 100 little tasks of every day life, so that my little Family can live their best possible lives with as few worries as possible. 

I am not a Grasshopper Wife who can travel easily or set aside all of my Ant Wife obligations quickly to go out without a bit of planning (this was especially true when the Offspring were younger and still at home). Nevertheless, the good news is, with a bit of foresight and assistance, all the Ant Tasks can be addressed so that it is possible to take an Ant Wife on Grasshopper experiences.  (And I can say, an Ant Wife does enjoy a Grasshopper Moment, especially with the knowledge that all the Ant Tasks are momentarily not her obligation.)

On the other hand, the converse cannot be said of Grasshoppers; they cannot be easily trained to function as Ants. To be an Ant requires perseverance, patience, commitment -- not qualities that Grasshoppers have in abundance. Hard to wait and tend to mundane aspects of life when you are a Grasshopper springing without forethought from moment to moment.

So, let us raise a toast to the Ant Wives. Forever in the background, making sure that the world runs smoothly for the people we love, so that they can have their Grasshopper Moments. And, hopefully, teaching them quietly the ways of being an Ant, too, so that they will be well prepared for their lives ahead. 

Spider

Behold, the beautiful spider. 

It takes a truly special eye to be able to capture all the small things in this way. 

Amazing.

Photo Copyright 2022, Mediocria Firma.

All rights reserved. Used with gratitude.

Spider

There once was a tiny fierce spider

Surrounded by greenery to hide her,

Whilst searching for food, found gnats in multitude --

A tasty feast they would provide her.

 Photo Copyright 2020, 2021, Mediocria Firma.

All rights reserved. Used with gratitude.

Tangled

The thoughts in my brain feel like the limbs of this plant. Need some mental housekeeping, stat.

Caterpillar

Chain-link fence. Prickly bug.

Photo Copyright 2018, 2019, Offspring the Third

Used With Gratitude. All rights reserved.

Scorpion

Blacklight bug-hunting.

Photo Copyright 2019, 2019, Offspring the Third

Used With Gratitude. All rights reserved.

Penny Bug

Offspring the Third has thoughtfully provided a penny for scale.

Photo Copyright 2018, 2019, Offspring the Third

Used With Gratitude. All rights reserved.

Lady

Photo Copyright 2018, 2019, Offspring the Third

Used With Gratitude. All rights reserved.

Gregor Samsa

WARNING: TERRIBLE bug story ahead. TERRIBLE. If you have a horror of cockroaches, DO NOT READ THIS STORY. You have been warned! 

Are you sure then? OK, you've been warned.

Herself speaks.
-----

Fall is creeping steadily into this corner of the desert:  it has been cloudy and damp, with a breeze that ranges from mild to rather surprisingly strong. The night creeps in earlier, the dawn arrives later. Halloween decorations sprout like mushrooms in neighborhood yards. These are the pleasant aspects of fall.

Some of unpleasant hallmarks of autumn are the attempts by various verminous critters to move into the dry, warm house. The most dreaded interloper:  the cockroach.

Most of the occasional roaches we find are already gasping their last (we have a Bug Man who visits monthly and treats the outside of the house, so these wretched bugs are doomed from the start). They appear, abdomen up with legs curles and one sad antenna twitching fruitlessly, in the middle of the floor tile or just under the corner of the desk.  We shudder, and scrape them up, and are done.

Last week, I had the unpleasant experience of seeing two lazily waving antennae emerging from the overflow drain of one of the two sinks in the master bedroom. (My sink, of course.) I politely requested aid from Beloved Husband, who found something to spray into the sink-holes to dispatch the bug.  I then taped up all possible entrances and exits to that sink with duct tape for several days, and followed up with a treatment of anti-roach spray into all the holes for good measure. The sink appears safe. For now.

And then, there was this morning.

It was ever so early -- around 6 AM -- and I was wearing my shorts and sneakers so that I could exercise a bit later. I went to the cabinet to the left of the kitchen sink and fetched a small plastic cup. I then took out the bottle of ibuprofen, since Offspring the Third has had a nasty cold with residual sore throat, and I wanted to make sure he would be comfortable for school. Tiny Dog was my shadow in the kitchen, as always. I felt her ear tickle my left leg. I ignored her and wrestled with the large cotton ball that was blocking the top of the ibuprofen bottle.  Tiny Dog's ear tickled my leg again. I wondered why she was begging so early, and looked down. It was not Tiny Dog.

There was a cockroach climbing up my leg.

"AH! It's on me!" 

(I kicked it off with my other foot.)

"FUCK."

(I looked around on the floor for it.)

"Where is it?"

There it was, frantically running away.

"Dude, get me a flyswatter," I said to Offspring the Third.

He didn't see one. I looked at the plastic cup in my hand, and coverered the roach with it, trapping it.

:::shudder::::

I could hear it scrabbling inside the cup. I located the swatter, but didn't want to remove the cup from atop the roach, lest it escape into an inaccessible spot in the house.

I retrieved a square of cardboard, slid it under the cup to trap the insect inside (oh, the scrabbling; so much scrabbling), and took the cup/cardboard outside. I put it on the patio. Offspring the Third then removed the cup and beat the roach vigorously with the swatter until the insect was quite thoroughly dead.

All done.

-----

All in all, I think I handled it fairly well, particularly since I neither passed out nor just plain dropped dead right then and there. Granted, there was the FUCK that I exclaimed within earshot of Offspring the Third, but I'm certain he'll be understanding of that utterance under the circumstances. Every little itch makes me flinch now, though. GOOD GRAVY.

Is it strange that I feel just the tiniest bit bad for that poor frightened insect, running and scrabbling, doing nothing more unusual than following its bug survival instinct?

Still.

Please don't touch me ever again, cockroaches.

Just no.

The Dragonfly

Today I saw the dragon-fly
Come from the wells where he did lie.
An inner impulse rent the veil
Of his old husk: from head to tail
Came out clear plates of sapphire mail.
He dried his wings: like gauze they grew;
Thro' crofts and pastures wet with dew
A living flash of light he flew.

-- Alfred Lord Tennyson

Picture copyright 2015, Mediocria Firma. Used with gratitude.

Don't Bug Me

While away this past weekend, we visited a fascinating little storefront in a slightly dingy little mall.  It held a marvelous collection of all kinds of insects, including a few that could be held, if one desired.

Herself opted to pat the millipede's head rather than to allow it to walk across her hand.  (That would be a bit much for her.)  Insects are truly fascinating critters, that's for sure. 

Nature's Secret Love

Nature loves her creatures, and conceals them (when necessary) with a precise and tender hand.

We delight in discovering her creatures in all their hidden beauty.

I don't love you as if you were the salt-rose, topaz
or arrow of carnations that propagate fire:
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.
 ― Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

Mysterious cricket in its lair of leaves. 
Picture copyright 2014, Mediocria Firma. Used with gratitude.

Loner

Let me tell you this: if you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it's not because they enjoy solitude. It's because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them. ― Jodi Picoult, My Sister's Keeper

The more time we spend out in the world interacting with others, the more we realize that people are oftentimes incomprehensible.  Even with those individuals we know well, we are occasionally surprised to realize that they think or perceive in manners that are different from (and even opposite to) how we think or perceive.

It is disappointing. Frustrating. It tempts us to withdraw into solitude:  when we are alone, we at least have the comfort of knowing we understand ourselves.

It's sometimes a wonder that human beings can in fact find common ground -- but somehow, we do.  We try, with a million words and gestures, to impart to one another what we mean or how we feel or why we believe things ought to be a certain way.  It is a laborious endeavor.  Yet occasionally, someone close has an uncanny ability to say aloud precisely what one is thinking under specific circumstances, and it's both thrilling and terrifying to realize that perhaps, for that single moment, one is perfectly understood.

This magnificent photograph shows an ant lion larva in all its solitary glory.
Picture copyright 2014, Mediocria Firma. Used with gratitude.

Iūnius

Green was the silence, wet was the light,
the month of June trembled like a butterfly. 
― Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets

Picture copyright 2012, 2013, 2014 Mediocria Firma. Used with gratitude.