The summer between fifth and sixth grade, my friend Darcy invited me to go on vacation with her family. They had a cabin (or house, I do not remember anything about where we stayed) in Bear Valley. There was a gorgeous lake that I do remember, and there was this incident, and it involved ladybugs.
Did you know that when ladybugs get the urge to make more ladybugs they swarm on tree trunks? (At least, that’s why I imagine they do that. . . ) Like, totally obscuring the bark, swarm. Like this, for instance. Darcy had an older brother, (sorry about the link, I spent a huge amount of time looking for something else, but I seem to be google impaired tonight) and he brought a friend. And, they had some empty tennis ball cans, which they FILLED with ladybugs from the ladybug covered trees and upended down the backs of our shirts.
That was the same summer I first peed outside, but that indignity was absolutely eclipsed by the billions of ladybugs crawling all over me. I was terrified of those little things for years. I’m not kidding. Shut up.
This morning, some twenty five years later (eek), I went to admire the lovely roses blooming in the yard and saw this:
And, you know what that means.
It means this:
The girls were not afraid.
Also, look at the work I did!
And that picking and planting was done directly after eating the balsamic glazed baked carrots and broccoli/spinach/garlic/red pepper flake stir fry I made for supper. (I’m either hating myself or totally bragging. Is there no middle ground??)
THEN I went to Tarjay and THEN I went next door to TJ maxxxxx and scored four new tops for less than what I spent on diapers and wipes at Tarjay.
And now I will go to sleep satisfied and not have ladybug nightmares.