And so this week’s moment of happiness despite the news.
On Sunday, it had actually been dry long enough that I needed to water the outside plants. As I bent down to pick up my large watering pot, I heard a surprised buzz, and then something green jumped, thwacked against my glasses, and then fell to the floor of the deck.
A bug.
Now, bear in mind I’m not a big fan of bugs. I know bees are important to our environment, but if there is a bee on my deck, or anywhere near me when I’m outside, I very quickly (as in RUN) get out of the area. I am allergic to many things, and one of them is bee stings. So they strike terror in my heart. Centipedes and earwigs leave me weak-kneed. Stinkbugs and June bugs, holy cow. I’m not even a big fan of ladybugs, as there’s a type of bug that looks like a ladybug, but they bite. I’ve only seen a cockroach once in my life, and it caused me to not just move from my room at a hotel, but to leave the hotel for another one entirely. And don’t even get me started on spiders.
Butterflies are okay. Moths too, because they’re like butterflies. I even wrote a Today’s Moment about a white moth once. For those of you with the book, Today’s Moment Of Happiness Despite The News; A Year Of Spontaneous Essays, you can find this on August 23, 2017 entry.
And now…there was this big green bug that thwacked off my glasses.
It remained still on the floor of my deck. I looked at it closely, making sure it was indeed a bug. It looked like a leaf. I don’t mind leaves. But this leaf had legs.
I’d seen this type of bug before, I remembered. A couple years ago, as I reached for my coffee pot, I found one on the handle. Inside my house. After my usual shrieking was over, I looked at it more closely, and then googled a description of it. It was a katydid.
My oldest daughter is named Katie. Well, Kathryn, after me, but she’s Katie. And I often called her Katydid when she was growing up. Just having that name made me warm up a bit toward this bug. According to what I read, it didn’t seem like a biter, or one that caused any pain, really. Using a cup, I scooped the coffee pot interloper up and let it loose outside, from the small second floor deck. It hung around for a while, clinging to the screen door, before it disappeared.
A couple weeks ago, another one appeared on that same screen door. Olivia and I admired it and left it alone.
And now, this one. Surprising me on my third floor deck.
How did it get up here? Some katydids fly, but not very well. They mostly jump, as this one did. But we are three stories up!
I went ahead and watered my plants, blocking the door into the condo very carefully, as both cats were very interested in the green visitor. For his part, he just kept sitting on the deck floor. I sprinkled a little water around him, just in case he was dehydrated. Then I went inside, keeping an eye on him through my office window as I settled in to work.
At one point, I turned, and there he was, looking in the window through the screen. He’d climbed onto the pot holding my palm tree which sits over Little Literary Lion, my concrete lion. I said hello, told him he was welcome to stay.
Over the course of the next hour, he moved next to the palm tree, then began to climb up its trunk. Eventually, he disappeared into the long narrow leaves. His leaf-like body did just what it was supposed to do, and camouflaged him. I could no longer see him.
But that night, he sang.
When you are home, alone with only your two cats and a dog, it’s amazing how much company a katydid can provide. Such music.
I’m pretty sure he’s moved on to some of my other plants. I’ve heard him, but I haven’t seen him. I was horrified yesterday when a big wind kicked up and the palm tree blew over. I picked up the tree quickly, then looked all around on the ground. No tumbled katydid. But I heard him again last night. He’s on the deck somewhere. Keeping me company.
This deck has proven magical this summer. The plants are riotous. I have a milkweed that shot out of nowhere on the top level of my raised garden. I did not plant it – I don’t know where it came from, on this third floor deck. It grew straight and tall and bloomed, and all of a sudden, I have hummingbirds and butterflies. Not by intention; it feels like a gift.
On a whim, I googled the spiritual meaning of an appearance by a katydid. I read:
“The appearance of a katydid has quite a bit of spiritual meaning. Spiritually, this speaks volumes about adaptation and blending in. Just as the bug seamlessly merges with its surroundings, we too must learn to adapt to life’s ever-changing circumstances. It represents the ebb and flow of life and the essence of being one with our environment. In the realm of spirituality, it reminds us of the importance of finding and using our voice. The Katydid teaches us that even in the vast expanse of the night, one can make their presence felt. The vivid green hue of the Katydid Leaf Bug is symbolic of the heart chakra. It represents love, healing, and growth. Encountering this bug is a reminder to open our hearts to the world and embrace the healing powers of nature.”
Adapting to life’s ever-changing circumstances. Finding and using our voice. Love, healing and growth.
Another gift.
And yes, that helps. Despite. Anyway.
