Friday, August 29, 2014

Southern Cries.

            As most of you, my dear readers know, I was on vacation just a few short weeks ago. I traveled halfway across this country and returned a more relaxed man. You know this because I shared this trip with you. However, while I didn’t want to go initially, I did manage to enjoy myself. I spent a lot of time resting, sitting in a hot tub or by a small fire pit with a nice blaze to chase away any blood sucking pests. I enjoyed the other insects, butterflies, lightning bugs and lady bugs. But something was missing; something I didn’t realize at first. Something that made sitting alone on a darkening patio as the sun slips west and earth rotates seem lonely. A loneliness I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
            Upon my return to my adopted state and city, as I crawled out of the car, more exhausted than I should be, I was greeted by a plethora of sounds that immediately made me feel more comfortable. These cries of the night creatures was more comforting to me than any sound I’d heard while gone. It was the sound of crickets and cicadas. I’m not saying the Northern states don’t have these little creatures but they don’t have them in the quantity the South has them.
            As a matter of fact, every year I look forward to the cries of the new brood of cicadas, the crickets will always be here. The one creature I didn’t miss while in the North, is the always persistent blood suckers. The ones that infect the area where I live are almost immune to any and all sprays, candles and flowers. I hate them little buggers, I eat lots of garlic, spend tons of money on repellent and they still manage to build up an immunity to the defenses I’ve put up. But still, I was home and the familiar sounds of the days and nights. A song if you will. A song only Mother Nature and temperate climates can bring to us.
            It’s funny the things we miss without realizing it. This is a perfect example. While on my holiday I relaxed and enjoyed the minutes, hours and days as they passed. But somehow, someway, my ID kept nagging me about the small things I was used to that were not present anymore. No matter how hard I tried to figure out what was wrong, what was missing I just couldn’t wrestle down the missing piece of my life. That is, until I arrived home and realized what had been missing.
            As I write this, I’m on my porch, smoking a good cigar and my citronella candles are out, my mosquito spray can is empty and I’m wearing a long sleeve shirt to prevent too many bites. I’m surrounded by blood suckers and other winged vermin and I’ve got the bites to prove it, but you know, I’m home, I’m on my porch and I’m happy. Regardless of the itching from the bugs who’ve been trained by Ninjas.
            I hope you, my dear reader, are in a similar place, a place where you are happy, comfortable and relaxed… without the flipping pests.
            Have a great week.


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