once again

Every year, the beginning is the same. An adorable ladybug crawling along the bathroom windowsill. Perched atop my shoulder. Cuddled up next to the bathroom nightlight when in the morning I shuffle in. And every year, the ending is the same. Hoards of ladybugs taking shelter in our home. Finding their way inside in such numbers and with such speed, we risk our treehugger footing by escorting some of them back outside.

To our credit, we let most of them stay indoors. Brett does his daily "Five Minute Bug Cup" and we let the rest of them be. Well, except for the ones that melodramatically languish on the windowsills, turned on their backs with their legs ruffling the air. Countless times I've tried turning them right, only to have them immediately flip themselves over. So those miserable ones I brush off the sill and drop them in the trashcan.

Living with ladybugs has taught me quite a lot about, well, living with ladybugs. They love to investigate the toilet and can tread water all night long waiting for someone to rescue them come morning. Which, of course, we do. When ladybugs feel threatened, they emit a very strong earthy smell. A smell that is almost identical to the smell of astragalus. Earthy and and muddy and green at the same time. Very pungent. Sitting on the living room floor, I'll often move a leg or reposition my hand, and then I'll smell it. Oops, dead ladybug.