Friday, April 24, 2020

“My Crickets: A Little Decameron #29”


On the same day that our toddler president suggested that we might inject ourselves with a detergent or expose the insides of our body with ultraviolet light waves, the Korean brothers, Jeff and Warren, whom we allow to use our second parking space for free (it may be hard to believe, but we own only one car in Los Angeles, which is why we had an empty space--every apartment building or condominium in Los Angeles is required to offer their tenants 2 spaces), sent us a large box of cinnamon buns.
     It was so genuinely nice, but I could eat only one. Howard and I have never been very taken with desserts, although of late he has developed a great liking for mint and chocolate-chip ice cream.   
     But these are so very, very sugary I could hardly finish the first.
     Wonder if our crickets might like a taste?
     The black one in my bathroom chirruped all night, but the brown one in our bedroom chirped out just for an hour. Hope he's alright.
     We had tuna and fried potatoes for dinner, so I served them just a little tuna with their water.
     The mourning doves were also fairly quiet, sharing just a few moans. Perhaps they've already all found their mates.
      For a brief moment yesterday, a hummingbird did buzz our green plants just to check them out. Well, at the end of April the temperature was 93 degrees! which usually doesn't happen here until August, a month I describe as "mockingbird" month.
     When we lived in the Washington, D.C. suburbs, we had a very noisy mockingbird in a nearby tree. The variations of the noises he produced truly did make it difficult to sleep. And one night our rather cranky neighbor loudly screamed out at about 2:00 a.m.: "Shut up!" The mockingbird stopped for an instant and then proceeded to sing his endless song.
      But if that incident wasn't funny enough, the neighbor told us the next morning that he had attempted to call the police. They laughed and reported that they do not respond to mockingbirds.
Howard could just imagine them coming to the apartment in the middle of the night and shouting out to the bird through a megaphone: "Come down, you up there come down."
     On the outside of our condominium compound a mockingbird nested in a tree across the street during our first year living here. His cries, incorporating sounds that appeared to imitate trucks, air-conditioner units, and other machines, was much more horrifying than the more southern, Maryland version of the species.

Los Angeles, April 24, 2020
Reprinted from Facebook (April 2020).

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