Be still…and celebrate life

blogIMG_8582Even though I enjoyed my season of being still and absent from the blogging world, it wasn’t always quiet in my surroundings.

Early this summer, we experienced a sound resonating from the wooded areas, and eventually the trees in our own yard, that lasted all day long for about six weeks or so.

After a 17-year-long absence (now, that’s a long break!!), the song of the cicadas echoed through the air.  Some folks call them locusts but after researching a bit, I found that locusts and cicadas are not really the same critter.

If you’re unfamiliar with these creatures, the Magicicada periodical cicadas, who live in my neck of the words, are a particular kind of insect that stay underground and emerge from their subterranean homes after a long period of time (17 years in our case).

They climb up trees to begin their venture into adulthood and their singing is a prelude to their mating. And sing they do, on and on until you become so accustomed to the continuous din, it becomes like white noise.

Once the cicadas develop their wings, they begin flying through the air. My daughter can attest to that as she felt like she was being dive-bombed by some while mowing her yard one day.

Granddaughter related this tale to me by saying a big bug attacked her mom.

“Oh,” I asked, “was it a locust?”

“No, Nana,” she replied, “It’s not a locust.  I have to remember….”

She paused and thought awhile and then her face lit up with cognizance. “It was a CI-CAAAA-DA!”

This ol’ Nana, who has experienced the songs of the cicadas a few times in her lifetime, was schooled by a four-year-old with proper terminology.

For your viewing enjoyment, I’ve posted a photo of a cicada hanging around on our front porch and for your listening pleasure, click here to hear the song of the cicadas.

I guess we could imagine that the cicadas are celebrating when they sing their incessant songs. Celebrating life. What better thing to celebrate?

“The cicadas, as if they were wired on the same circuit, suddenly filled the garden with a loud burst of celebration.” ~ Peter Carey

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