Today I’m thinking about bugs. I’ve got nothing better to do than a house full of paintings to finish and the website projects that keep me afloat….so, bugs.
As I slowly adjust myself to living in a town of 2121 pop., one of the most difficult adjustments is to the downright excessive number of bugs here. (I’m thinking Camille Paglia got it right and that, contrary to arcadian dreams, nature is simply the over-the-top production of slithering, crusty, gooey life, without regard to relevance or necessity.) We have blessedly passed through the great fly and mosquito invasion and now are facing a proverbial plague of grasshoppers. (Why is it no matter where I move, things get downright biblical?) Grasshoppers are actually quite beautiful if you can get past how much they resemble clockwork creatures. We have an all black version, very arty and sophisticated. There are small spring green ‘hoppers with carmine stripes on their legs. Then there are the nuclear-accident sized ‘hoppers, also green, with complex speckled patterning on their backs, like Islamic tilework, in brilliant red and brown.
To step into my yard is to invite a great flurry of jumping, clattering grasshoppers which, in their panic to get out of the way, land in your hair, attach themselves to your pant legs. They can also, like spiders (more about them later) sit very patiently: on the hood of my car, on top of the kitchen faucet, clinging to drapes. And while we’re on the subject of ‘clinging,’ I woke in the middle of the night to visit the bathroom and there waiting for me on the canvas which hides all the boxes I have yet to unpack was a 10-inch long stick bug, slowly waving its head from side to side. My only response was to utter, ‘aw, come on!’ (Yes, I’m a big fan of Arrested Development.)
Now, spiders. My theory about spiders is that they don’t like to be anywhere there is a lot of activity. So my way of trying to rid the house of spiders is to periodically visit anywhere I think they might be hiding and create a ruckus. If this doesn’t work, I get out the vacuum cleaner. My friend, Erika, who was recently visiting me, has a different approach: catch and release.
One night during her stay, I hear her call from the guest bedroom, ‘uh, david. come here.’ Sitting very serenely on the wall was one of the biggest spiders I’ve seen. No way was I getting near it. It took all my willpower to get within six feet of it to verify Erika’s judgment that yes, indeed, this was a big spider, black with thick legs and a sickeningly protuberant body. But Erika very calmly got a glass and a postcard (invitations to gallery openings do have their uses), popped the glass over the spider, slid the postcard between the glass, the spider and the wall, and there you have it: her catch and release method. No doubt much more effective than my method: if I just make a lot of noise and movement they’ll go away.
