One autumn evening back in 1989, my sister Joan and I were taking a walk around St. Catharines, just chatting and enjoying the cool fall night, when suddenly, a cute little cricket hopped into our path. The little bug turned and faced us, chirping his little head off and I was so delighted by how cute and friendly he was. Clasping my hands together I said, "Oh! How cute! Lets name him Fred!" whereupon Joan cried, "dead Fred!" and smooshed him rather aggressively with her foot before the horror of the moment had even registered on my smiling face.
I spent the next 20 minutes lecturing her, walking fiercly and trying to make sense of why she thought what she did was funny. As the years have passed, I’ve tried to figure out why EVERYONE thought it was funny and eventually I came to the conclusion that the human race is just plain messed up.
Which brings me to todays blog 🙂 This past weekend, Greg and I went to Port Dover to spend the day with his family on the boat. I used the bathroom at the Marina just before we cast out for the day, and when I went inside all I could hear was the loud frantic chirping of a cricket. Looking around, I found him trapped in a spiders web behind a toilet, just having a crickets version of a panic attack. I got him loose, but he didnt seem to know where to go so I picked him up and brought him outside to the gardens. As I let him go I felt a sort of closure – thats just one cricket that I saved from my sister Joan 😛 I like to think he went and told all his friends about me 😀
Later that day, we lowered the anchor in the boat and all of us headed through the water to shore at some private secluded beach on Lake Erie. The beach was covered with Monarch Butterflies, all resting as they journey’d south for the winter. It was beautiful, just walking along the shore collecting pretty stones and having all these gorgeous butterflies all around me… just like out of a fairy tale! At one point though, I noticed a smaller butterfly lying in the sand and when I got closer I noticed it had a torn wing, making it unable to fly. I called Gregs daughter over – the one that wants to be a vet when she grows up – and together we decided that she should take the butterfly home with her and save its life. By the end of the day, she had created a temporary home for it, supplied it with flowers and name it "March".
Its nice to find another kindred spirit 🙂