Monday, April 13, 2020

“My Crickets: A Little Decameron #18”

I hope you're not getting bored with all my cricket stories in "A Little Decameron." Living in a condominium as we do in mid-Los Angeles, near Beverly Hills, we don't get to see much nature, and I wanted to explore, however small, nature was coming to us, as if in this terrible time of lock-down, to reassure us.
      We've had two ducks in our swimming pool, an eagle one day on our roof top, crows, hummingbirds, an occasional squirrel, and even one day a California racer snake which our cat brought in as gift for us as Howard was donning a tux for a dinner party (fortunately I was in New York that day). He scooped it out, half naked, with a broom.
      People in the hills have coyotes, rattlers, cougars, and other animals. And the city is filled with pesky raccoons. But in the inner courtyard, where we live, it is the doves and crickets who most keep us most in touch with nature.
     My friend Julie, back in Iowa, said that long before this, she would have grabbed a mason jar, scooped the cricket into it and returned it to nature. But it is still fairly cold out there, and crickets don't survive well in the cold. And besides I love crickets, a sign in most cultures, as some of you have pointed out, of good luck.
     I have always loved crickets, and our noisy friend can't be heard from our backroom bedroom, where he has only visited us once. He doesn't seem to like Howard's pristine bathroom. I don't know why. Perhaps as Howard fears insects, the cricket realizes I don't always.
     Our rib roast last night turned out quite nicely, although we're just not able anymore to eat a lot of meat, and we don't quite know what to do with the rest of it--maybe beef hash? The green beans were excellent, and I liked the mashed potatoes.
     For Easter dinner I again fed the cricket smashed blueberries, but this time added a small ramekin of honey-infused yogurt. I think he may have tried it out, since the yogurt, this morning, seemed to have been extended to the upper lip of the tiny bowl.
     He chirruped loudly early in the night but stopped at about 1:30 and didn't let out another peep. Even our mourning dove this morning hooted only a few moans.
     Perhaps in a day with 557,663 cases of Covid-19, and 22,116 deaths, they're too in true mourning. Because Dr. Fauci dared to speak the truth on CNN yesterday, Trump has threatened to fire him. There's no mind or soul there, just a selfish narcissistic shell of a being. No kind words for those that have given their lives because of his inadequacies to recognize what we all might be facing.
     To the right is a photo of something like what our rib roast looked, only ours had only two ribs. Wish I might invite friends over to help us finish the rest of it.

Los Angeles, April 13, 2020
Reprinted from Facebook (April 2020).

No comments: