To every thing, turn, turn, turn, there is a season, turn, turn, turn.
I like things to be useful. When I blog for Discovering Music, I want the posts to promote the value of music history or an understanding of the arts. My heart may overflow with things I want to share, but when faced with screen and keyboard, I first ponder the question: what might be useful?
Today, looking out at the sun-baked fields of our Texas ranch, I’m pondering a most useful thing: the seasons. There’s a great deal of music and art that reflects the seasons, beginning with Vivaldi’s four baroque concertos called The Seasons.
But I’m thinking about a different kind of season—the Vanishing of the Insects.
Two nights of frost last week sent all but the lamest rattlesnakes underground—that needs to be its own post. As welcome as that disappearance is, the sudden absence of insects is more dramatic.
For starters, the waves of ants invading the dog bowls at the barn have disappeared. I’d like to think ants add to the flavor of dry dog food. At least, the dogs seem mostly oblivious. (And yes, I know there are things one can do, including placing the bowls inside of trays of water . . . if one remembers to do it.) Also, the monstrous grasshoppers that invoke Biblical comparison don’t spring up and slap you in the chest when you walk around. (My kitten misses them.)
Most importantly, the flies are down to the two that perpetually live in my car. They’ll probably survive the winter, alas, even if I swat them dead a dozen times
Otherwise, it’s smooth sailing from now ‘til March. Almost. There’s one more season of bug invasion awaiting, namely at the end of November. Without much warning, a swarm of red-backed tiny beetles will show up in our living room. They‘ll come down the chimney and under the doors. They’ll attach themselves fiercely to the curtains. And they’ll just sit there for a while.
I liked them better when I thought they were ladybugs, but our “pest” guy assures me they aren’t. He has also convinced me there’s not much one can do about them, so no point in going wild, spraying. They stay pretty much in their own area, and then leave in about two weeks. I guess they winter in the Caribbean.
Graciously, they exit before it’s time to put up the Christmas tree, so you have to admire that. And they don’t leave behind much in the way of stragglers. A most efficient season, I’d say.
Music about bugs? Yes, there are plenty of passages. (My favorite is the nocturnal wash in the 3rd movement of Bartok’s Music for Strings, Percussion, and Celesta.) And plenty of “bug” art, poetry, and even dance (who can resists the “Flight of the Bumblebee” from Rimsky-Korsakov’s Tales of the Tsar Sultan). I should be useful and get a blog organized around that theme. But, first, I want to enjoy the rays of today’s November sun-lit day and be grateful for its beauty.
Right now, that seems useful.
Images: Benjamint444, Didier Descouens
I love this post. I chuckled many times, but especially when I envisioned giant grasshoppers crashing into your chest while you are walking. That is pretty funny! Although, I would probably freak out it it happened to me!