Bug’s Life

In Hawaii, when I was very young, I would feed the ants. Yeah. True story. Lying on a blanket in the back yard, I would feed them granules of sugar that I grabbed from the aluminum sugar canister.

On my belly, nose down in the grass, I watched them carry off this precious cargo, and then follow a long, marching line of fellow workers who seemed to have disappeared, very purposefully,  somewhere in the tall, green grass.

But bees were different–I was afraid of them back then. So I never noticed what they were doing in the garden. Now . . . we work side by side, compadres in our quests.

And then there’s The Fly. I haven’t quite figured out how to make peace with him . . . yet.

And now the bugs . . .

with whom I am unfamiliar– I’ll become acquainted with them . . .  another day.

Ahh, now the butterfly . . . Fanciful . . .

Innocent . . .

Noiseless . . .


You know . . . I no longer have to feed the “bugs” because now I have a garden: seeds for the birds, nectar for the butterflies and hummingbirds, peony sap for my friends, the ants. Simpatico.

© Teresita Abad Doebley. All rights reserved 2009-2010.


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