We turned over the cicada friend to get a better glimpse of his stomach and legs.
On our walk with Ratpaw and Vanilla yesterday, we found a resting place for various cicada skins near a tall, slim pine tree. Rather than leave these crunchy creatures remainders behind, we decided to bring them along. I remember reading somewhere in the memoirs of an Alabama author that, as a young girl, she created necklaces for herself from cicada "cadavers" and wore them as a jewelry. The stiff hairs on the cicadas appendages help them stick to clothing, fabric, or each other quite well.
Milla and her cicada.
Milla was fascinated by the "ChickAYdaw fwends", and insisted on carrying one along with her as we toured the wooded neighborhood.
Walking the loop.
Since the rest of our cityfolks were concentrated on the cultural significance of the ongoing Alabama football game, we had the street to ourselves, accompanied only by the ocassional wafting scent of barbeque. Frankly, that's all the football I need right there- a scent and the silence left behind by those gone to the game.
Ratpaw wore his heart on his chest.
Patrick addresses demands for his cicada friend to be transferred to a different shoulder.
Patrick ended up wearing three "shape necklaces" made from discarded yarn and paper scraps because the munchkins felt inhibited by such pomp. I appreciate a man who isn't afraid to wear a necklace on his head when the situation demands. Adaptability is the story of our survival.
Tragedy almost struck when Milla's friend fell off her shoulder and onto the concrete. Her little yelp tangled with words we couldn't decipher- an elementary dirge- before I scooped up cicada friend and put him atop my head, where he rested until we returned to the house. Now cicada friend sits on the mantle where Milla decided she "like".
