And spiders and sowbugs. Little green hoppers and moths. Crickets.
Not retribution for yesterday’s post (as Margaret pointed out- a thoughtful and mature discussion with nary a zinger and I thank you for your contributions, one and all).
No-these are the annual hitchhikers, the insects that "go south" for the season- into my living room, dining room, bedroom and bath. For the next two weeks there will be 8 legged and winged oddities crawling up the mirrors admiring themselves, setting up housekeeping behind the toilet and providing hours of pouncing entertainment for Sophie and McCloud. There will be one cricket who manages to hide herself away in such fashion that she will sing at night until Christmas without being ferreted out.
This mass insect exodus out of the cold occurs once each year on that special night when I find myself in a flimsy sleeveless cotton gown dragging in the houseplants because there’s been the first frost/freeze warning on the 11 o’clock news. Remember back in that meme where I said I could grow things? AC, in her meme, said she could grow outdoor plants but not indoor plants. No such luck over here. I can grow anything.
Don’t be jealous. This is not a skill as much as a curse. Combined with my waste not/want not mentality no broken off piece of jade plant, no snapped leaf of begonia goes unpotted. But truly, all I do is shove bits and pieces into pots of dirt and then benignly neglect them. For years. Yes, years. The plants in this house started in 3 inch pots. They came home from friends and relatives as snips in baggies. They flew home from my mother’s on Mesaba Airlink, jammed in my purse and rudely mauled by the TSA.
Every May 15 all the houseplants get shoved outside to spend the summer, usually on the north side of the house, and I heave a sigh of relief because the house feels open, uncluttered, airy. Every Oct. 1 they get dragged in, usually by me in my nightgown, muttering and cursing because I don’t want them in here, along with all their 8 legged passengers but I can’t just leave them to die outside. They’re in the bathroom, the dining room, the sunroom, my office- everywhere.
A smarter person would pour some Agent Orange through the soil and spray them down but between the aviary and the cats I can’t bring myself to do that so for now the cricket is chirping and the cats are frolicking over here as I type at 4am- completely engulfed by green. It’s even worse at Wit’s End; when I left there Saturday every single surface- tables, floors, countertops- was covered with blooming succulents. They thrive in the bright winter sun off the lake and the cold nights where the thermostat remains at 48. Water every other weekend seems to suit them fine.
If you’re in the neighborhood, drop on by and pick yourself out a plant. Some of these go back 15-20 years. The ten foot banana palm will be looking for taller ceilings soon.(Click to enlarge photos)