Cicadas & Armadillos

Photograph by Medford Taylor

The 13-year cicadas have descended on us - or rather, ascended, since I think they emerged from the ground. There are millions of them, hanging on the trees in our neighborhood and in the rest of Middle Tennessee. After working out in the yard for a while the other day subjected to the relentless, shrill droning, I finally took shelter in the house - it took over 2 hours for the ringing in my ears to stop. Felt as though I'd spent a few hours at a rock concert. Driving can be hazardous, too. Those critters are big, and hitting one is akin to having a wad of cottage cheese lobbed on the windshield. I've noticed young men shaking small trees in the downtown area, scooping up the fallen cicadas and pelting their love interests with them. They definitely know how to woo a girl down here.

Tennessee is the Bug Capital of the U.S., I'm pretty sure. All the bugs of the North live here, as well as the bugs of the South, and Terminix got its start in the state. So besides cicadas, we have termites, roaches, nasty spiders and tons of things that just plain like to bite. My ankles are pretty chewed up, and I've given up trying to be discreet when I weed. I keep my rear end up in the air, because squatting or sitting assuredly results in a bitten up heinie. Not comfortable.

Bruce and I went down to Shiloh, the Civil War site today - what a sobering place. 100,000 men fought, 23,000 died. Awful, awful losses, for both sides. We did enjoy the exhibition of firearms spanning from the Revolutionary War to our current war on terror. Doing away with the need for a ramrod certainly sped up the shooting process.

I am gaining a broader perspective of what the Civil War meant down here.  There isn't a county in Tennessee that didn't have a battle fought on its soil. Iowa was pretty insulated, comparatively speaking, although there are 143 Iowans buried in the cemetery at Shiloh. But to have battles fought, homes commandeered, animals and gardens pillaged - the cost was very high here.

Armadillos rank right up there with possums as far as ugly goes. I counted 5 armadillos lying on their backs, praising the Lord from the sides of the road on the way home from Shiloh today. I'm getting used to the sight of them. There is something prehistoric-looking about that scaled armor.  Like God just swept up all the leftovers from creation and super-glued them together and said, "Gee, that could be something...how 'bout an armadillo?"