Last weekend we did sort of low-key stuff (my husband assures me that we did Interesting Things, and so I kind of believe him but I don’t recall what those things were).
Sunday night he took the foster dog out for her walk, and came back in much faster than I anticipated. He was sort of agitated in an excited way and urged me to grab my camera. Out on our back deck was an unusual thing – a cicada mid-molt, drying its wings.
I actually really hate bugs, but for some reason this was almost cute. Here are the photos:
(Teeny wings, just out of his husky old skin.)
“Hellooooooo!” (Such a cute little buggy dance! He was sort of waving his legs up and down veeeeeery slowly.)
(just before flying away)
Cicadas are a big part of my childhood memories. In the heat of the summer, we’d open up the windows and fall asleep, sweating, to the sound of cicadas calling to one another.
In the morning all that was left was that weird little brown ghost-cicada, and my husband left it on the kitchen counter as a surprise for me. I put it above my desk, with all my other cool bits of inspiration.
Well, I think it’s inspiring.