We just got past the three days of the “Ice Saints” and the polar vortex still lingers for several days. It feels as though Spring has abandoned us, or worse, betrayed us to Winter winds. I woke to 3C, finding yet another Cucumber plant dead in a pot in the front yard. By 10 a.m. I had already built a fire and was going stir crazy trying to get the kid to do her home-school-work.
I un-apologetically woke the husband up, then feeling inner urges shift to bitter ideas, I felt the need to get out. Out of the house. Out of the cold. Out of trying to tell my kid to put some clothes on again (her first adult tooth finally came in).
Free! I launched myself into the prairie nearby, grass growing steadily taller, past my hips, but I wear pants and shoes that allow me to move with confidence despite the stinging nettle and spider webs adorning the waves of grass.
For roughly three hours, I slowly paced the trail. Wading into the taller grasses peppered with white Daisies, blue Speedwell, remnants of purple Vetch, an uncommon Violet Cornflower, and the spice of yellow from various flowers.
The Takeaway: Don’t mow the lawn when it’s too cold for bugs to flee. Walk slowly in a field. Leave the taller grasses and flowers to shelter bugs from the wind.
I don’t remember feeling cold when the wind picked up. But I knew the temperature had dropped by the response from the bugs. First, a Bee Fly resting wings open,, allowing me to take shoddy pictures of it in the shade; minutes later, revving up its wings like a helicopter stuck on the ground but attempting to make liftoff; finally flittering when my camera moves too close, falling over, then beating its wings to get back into a linebacker position to pump its heart full of warmer blood.
As I continued, insects found their home in the axils of leaves, burying their face into the armpits to keep warm. Over and over again I found flowers doing the same, providing a wind break and a warm comfort to bugs hoping to keep themselves warm enough to escape from a predators attempts.
Have you ever stared long enough at an insect for them to stare you back?
This is a butterfly that I name Queen Cathryn, beautiful puffed sleeves and intricately adorned eyes. She looks at me as I look back on her.
Or when was the last time that you stared down a ladybug as though it were a bull charger? This one probably fought a dozen such plaintiffs looking for a fight, as I gauge it’s bravery by its posture and gaze as I turn about it. It turns resolutely to look at me as I move about it for a different angle, egging me on for a fight.
Then I find flower after flower inhabited by another bug trying to keep warm, or to at least maintain a launching pad when the winds subsist and the earth releases more heat. I will remember that insects make great models when the weather is cold, if only to catch them before them return to their shelters for the night.
Waunder 