A Bee, a Spider and Moth Walk into a Bar

A Bee, a Spider and Moth Walk into a Bar

Last week was filled with insects on the march, turning up here and there as reminder there are others living, breathing, and busy about their work or place in the greater universe.  It is good to get small wake up calls though the day, though the spider halfway down my water glass in the bathroom was a surprise.

I have for years put a tissue over my glass full of water in the bathroom.  I have told my husband, it is to keep dust, bugs, etc. out of my glass so when I stumble, half-awake into the small room of rest in the middle of the night I won’t be getting more than a mouth full of water when I drink.  His comment when we discovered the spider, a very big, big black spider in a half-filled glass of water, “Well, that didn’t work very well.”  He quickly went to work to rescue said spider from the glass without spilling the water, drowning the spider or breaking the water glass.  Did I ever mention the man is talented?

Once the spider was removed to the bottom of our driveway in order to hopefully keep it out of the house, we work on getting back to work.  We crawled into our car and set off to work.  After half a block, my husband said, “Look, there is a bee on the windshield.”   I replied, “Oh, no.  It is one of Travis’s bees.  Quick, go around the block so we can take it home so it won’t get lost.”  My man complied and slowly turned the car to the next block and we watched carefully the little bee holding onto the windshield of our car. I told my husband, go slow so it doesn’t fall off.  We lost the bee part of the way though the block and hoped the bee would find its way home.  We were about two blocks away so the chances were quite good.  At least, it is what I kept telling myself.  I kept gazing back for several blocks as if checking would make a difference.  Probably not.  It wasn’t Travis’s bee for sure. I decided to just be happy.

We went to work.  No more insects to bar our way, no wings fluttering in a maddening flight to make use of the fading day as the season works on drawing to the last days of summer.  But still, my mind traveled to the little visitors and the moments we shared.  I am fascinated by insects, bugs, life in general.  When I was younger, I would climb up the cottonwood trees to view the world through sunshine dappled leaves, and branches from my perch.  I would stay for hours.  Various ants, beetles, and other insects and bugs would share with me the tree though they viewed me as an obstacle to get around. I was never bitten but I am sure during my scrambling up to get into the tree many of the occupants were dislodged, smashed, homes, dwellings destroyed as my Gulliver size body invaded their Lilliputians’ world.  I am a bit more careful now.  For one, I don’t climb trees any more but my yard is filled with wildflowers growing with abandonment.  When I walked out today for a possible picture for this blog,  I was sadden not to find any bees flying, no bugs on the walls of my house, and only a few tiny grass spider webs in the shadows where the glass is still green but where the sun shone, the grass crackled under my feet. But the crickets were singing. Last year was the first year my ears caught the chirping of crickets. They are moving in as the area gets dryer.  Change.

Our day of visitors was not over.  It seems that most of the time, our bathroom collects various travelers who have somehow made it into the trap.  I am sure the existence of travelers are elsewhere as in my closets where it is dark, perhaps, living in a forgotten set of shoes flipped in a corner after a long day of walking around.  I am happy not to know and when I find out I respond with the right amount of alarm and head out to find our spider jar and old envelope to capture the previous unknown occupant to take out the door. They will be back, I know it but for the moment they will be gone.

 

We found the moth in bathroom on the mirror studying its reflection. It seems to suit a moth’s nature this attention to its appearance.  They are as a species rather flighty. Once again, the jar was grasped as my husband worked to catch the small grey miller moth. I admonished him to be careful as they are particularly fragile and I did not want the velvet covering on the moth’s wings damaged.  With great care the man capture fragility in a jar and head out the door to let it go in the bushes next to the house.

Why not the end of the driveway where our spiders go? Well, because the end of the driveway is where spiders go. Moths are delicate.  I hate to think of big, fat raindrops drowning the innocent whose only crime was getting into the house. Spiders on the other hand are sneaky, they crept up on you when you are relaxing reading or eating when suddenly they are there on your arm and you are shrieking with unfathomable panic. The end of driveway belongs to spiders.  Bees are noisy as a rule, they buzz.  Buzzing is good. You know where they are and can get out of the way.  Back into my house works for me.

I love my life.  I love the unexpected moments. I like the reminder calls coming gently into my life. Most are small things at least in my limited space upon a vast planet in a bigger area of other planets, stars, galaxies and whatever else you can think of. Call it the universe. What bothers me is the abundance I remember when I was a child, a young girl and woman is gone.  Butterflies flitting here and there, ants crawling everywhere on the ground, beetles flopped over on their backs with legs wildly moving, and the bees buzzing everywhere. Bees drinking from flowers growing in green of lawns where we as children rolled in the sweetness and coolness of grass and clover on the ground. Life was brimming. Now? A bee, a spider and moth walk into a bar.