I confirmed three days ago the emergence of my favorite insect, the cicada-killer wasps (Sphecius speciosus) who inhabit the entire south side of my home.  Even today a female greeted me on the patio and offered me a close-up view of her as she inspected various windows and doors—and even me—in case we had one or more cicadas hiding on us.

Then just now, just as I stood on the patio calling my parents, I heard the sound of male cicadas coming from multiple directions (for only male cicadas make noise).

Like last year, the time is perfect for the arrival of both predator and prey, for the emergence of both wasp and cicada within a few days of each other.  Nature has a way of ensuring that the clock ticks seamlessly for all parties involved.

My experience says the wasp colony will reach its height within a few weeks, a time when the air all about this house will be filled with behemoths intent on ensuring the survival of a future generation.  And all the while, cicadas will emerge and grow in numbers so profound that my favorite insects will not suffer lack in the only quest that drives their short lives.

Part of me laments her presence, this giant, this behemoth of North American skies.  She buzzes near me on the patio with the roar of thunder emanating from her wings, her large form unmistakable and her presence welcome.

She is the largest of her kind, Sphecius speciosus, the cicada-killer wasp, and she is the first of many to come.

This colony of leviathans even now stirs to life, stretching along the entire southern end of my home from the garage to the patio.  More will arrive soon, arrive from their underground nests where they have matured since last summer, and the more will grow into a daunting aerial flood of massive wasps large enough to carry an adult cicada through the air.

I wipe a tear from my eye as she passes me, as she skirts my presence to flit across the patio toward her hunting ground.  This year may be the last for me to enjoy these unearthly creatures.

For years uncounted these insects have been my favorite, my companions, my fascination with that which threatens me most.  Because ant and wasps stings carry a poison my body cannot tolerate, these flying monsters pose a clear danger to me.

Yet I fear them not one bit.  I have lived with them for some time and have grown to trust them implicitly.  Only knowledge makes that possible.

Because I expect this to be my last summer here amongst these winged titans, my tear comes not for the short end I know this creature will meet when her duty is complete, when all her eggs are carefully laid and her nest dutifully secured, but instead I find myself longing for her presence in a future time when her offspring will rule these skies in my absence.

So, summer flyers, welcome!  I am your friend, your advocate, your consummate protector and ally, and you shall enjoy the fruit of the season so long as I am here.  Enamor me with your antics, impress me with your intimidating size, offer me this final encounter throughout which I might wallow in the joy that comes with your company.

And think not that I mourn for the short life I know you live.  Instead, know that I shed tears since I face a road ahead that lacks the promise of your kinship.

— — — — — — — — — —

Some notes:

[1] I face this wasp season with unbounded excitement.  The opportunity to capture images with my new camera offers me a renewed anticipation of the pleasure I glean from the limited time we share.

[2] Equally, the precipice this summer intimates is one which I may never cling to again.  I have mixed emotions about seeing her this afternoon, and about the unstoppable hourglass now set in motion—both by this first confirmed meeting and my inevitable move away from this place, this city, this region.

[3] I thought a few days ago that I saw a cicada killer flit by me as I stood on the patio.  Peripherally seen and not confirmed, however, I can only say I suspected their time had come but could not confirm it until now.

I intended to be gone from Dallas by now, to be relocated to the Piney Woods nearer the family farm and away from the unending stress of city life.  But things do not always work according to plan.

And I’m glad, at least for now and not for reasons kin to why I decided to move in the first place.  Those remain, still stand, continue beckoning me away.

Other motives justify this newfound contentment with being here in this place at this time.

Summer rests just around the bend.  As temperatures heat up and life bursts forth with spring’s provisions, I realize this will be my last chance to enjoy some of the marvelous beauty this area has to offer.

I noticed this very afternoon my potter wasps are back.  Between this morning and this evening, one of their kind has spent her day building a new pot on the same window screen that provided for them last year.  No trace of that creation existed in the dim rays of sunrise today, yet there it is now, whole and complete and nestled in the safety of my patio where nothing will bother it.

Seeing her hope for future generations constructed so quickly gave me pause to consider what else I will see in the coming months.

What of the cicada-killer wasps I know and love, my favorite insect whose massive colony encircles the entire southern end of my home from front door to patio?  Soon they will begin emerging from their nests, a new generation of giants thriving in short lives spent flitting about with the business of building next year’s brood.  I know of no other colony as large, and I certainly know of no such colony in East Texas where I intend to live.

What of the green anoles and Mediterranean geckos who share my home?  One predators of the light and the other hunters in the night, these creatures have enthralled and entertained me—and some have even brought me to tears.  What of their last hurrah in my presence?  Certainly I would regret leaving them behind without sharing summer’s embrace one last time.

What of the litany of life at White Rock Lake with which I commune so regularly, from birds to bushes, from insects to snakes, from trees to terrapins?  This undoubtedly represents the final season of our shared existence.  How can I not take advantage of this opportunity?

Even as today’s heat settled around me and made me realize how much I loathe this weather and the heat island effect of so much concrete, let alone the misery of so much pushing and shoving coupled with so little of the world’s true self, seeing the potter wasp’s handiwork and smelling the tropical discomfort settling in to stifle the world helped me see this as one last opportunity.  I need to take advantage of every moment offered me by this season.

Randy tagged me with a meme, one I did last October after Amar tagged me with it.

Back then I focused on an inspection of self, a serious look at some of my unique characteristics.

Having done this before, one might wonder why I’d do it again.

Simple answer: Because this time I’m approaching it from a less introspective point of view.  Oh, and because there are always another seven weird things about me that I probably haven’t already mentioned in such a context.

1. My deadly allergy to ants, wasps, and bees notwithstanding, I’m not allergic to poison ivy, sumac, or oak.  I lay in it (ivy) during a game of hide-and-seek, I manhandled it (ivy and oak) as part of a lawn cleanup, and I stood in it (sumac and ivy) up to my knees at Lake Tawakoni as I investigated the giant spider web last year, yet never have I reacted to any of them.  At all.  The same is true for the fungus that causes ringworm (having touched it far too many times from childhood to adulthood while remaining unscathed).
2. Fleas don’t bother me.  I don’t mean I ignore them while they munch on me; I do mean they don’t bite me and they rarely even jump on me.  I guess I’m not tasty enough…or I smell bad.  In either case, others can be inundated by them while I stand around wondering what the fuss is all about.
3. I have an extremely high drug tolerance thanks to my father (who also blessed me with the lack of allergies noted in #1).  Whether it’s needing three times the normal Novocaine at the dentist’s office, finding no benefit from things like hydrocodone and antihistamines, or being able to drink far more than others before feeling the slightest buzz, I spend my life explaining time and again why I can’t take one thing or another, or why I need far more of something than everyone else, and all because my metabolism dispatches such things with utter abandon and excruciating speed that render them useless.
4. Eyes, lips, nipples, chest, voice—then everything else.  In order of importance from first to last.  You figure it out.
5. Despite my deadly allergy to wasps, my favorite insect is one of the world’s largest species: cicada-killer wasps (Sphecius speciosus).  There is a massive colony of these behemoths that thrives just outside my front door and around my patio.  Talk about living on the edge…
6. I’m terrible with relationships of any kind.  Family, friends, lovers…They’re all the same to me, tragic examples of why I’m difficult to live with.  This is probably why I have a few very close friends and a great many casual friends.  But I would gladly die for those I love.
7. Roaches freak me out.  I love insects, as you know, yet I become a childish wimp when it comes to any species of roach.  I run screaming when I see one.  Go figure.

So there you go.  More bizarre nonsense that you never needed or wanted to know, yet a closer look inside the life of yours truly.