“NO electronics on this playdate,” I yelled, “so do NOT even ask.”
Please say the title of this post aloud as would Sir David Attenborough: with every “a” a long vowel. Cicahdah Drahmah. I can’t help but giggle when he hosts the periodical cicada segment of Planet Earth. Continue reading “Cicada Drama”
There’s a story here.
I think the feather came first: blown by wind, stuck by rain. Tufted titmouse is my guess from the grey, white and peach. Did it meet the feral cat I’ve seen slink past this very railing?
The annual cicada must have emerged last night when the rain softened packed yard dirt. It chose this spot to pop free from its old skin and try the new one with wings.
I hope the bird can still fly, too.