Delectables...

This afternoon... 

I make my way down the stairs and into the kitchen. 

I walk out the kitchen storm door and onto our almost brand-new, stick-built, screened-in back porch.

I walk out the wood-framed screen door and onto our almost brand-new, stick-built deck. 

"Hi Hiram," I softly say as I greet the great scarlet oak which provides us much-needed shade, companionship, and a home for wildlife. 

He wears a face, high up on his bark trunk. 

Scars left form enduring previous years of maturing.

I've often wondered if the scars are a result of storms in times before we knew Hiram and before this house was built. It was built in the '60s, a time before all vegetation was razed to build human dwellings. One thing I love about our neighborhood is the number of trees. Of course, with all these trees around and in between the manmade structures, comes risks. 

Our arborist estimates Hiram to be 100 to 150 years old.  

Hiram has a pupil in his right eye, part of the face.

His mouth is neither frowning nor smiling.

It feels like he is watching over our house, our home. 

I named him Hiram years ago. 

I turn left and walk down the two short steps to the lower part of the deck and over to the almost brand-new, built-in, wooden bench sized just for me. 

When in process of building the bench, the builder had me come outside to measure the height for the bench seat. 

It's perfect. I'm only 4'11". I used to be 5'2". I lost three inches within 4 years, probably a side effect of long-term, high-dose pharmaceutical steroids. The shrinkage caused kyphosis in my thoracic spine area. Think Quasimodo, but lower down on the spine. 

The big daystar on its afternoon descent shines directly on the bench. 

One reason I had the bench built, sun therapy. 

I sit down and lean back.  

I rest my head on the small rail-shelf which tops the back of the bench. 

Again, a perfect fit on which to rest my neck and head.

I close my eyes and see the red of the sun beneath my eyelids. 

I imagine the rays bringing healing to my eyes. 

Will that happen? I dunno. 

But it feels comforting, warm, nurturing, and the right thing to do at this moment. 

Within a couple minutes white fluffy clouds obscure the sun. 

The red light fades away. 

I open my eyelids. 

I witness the clouds slowly moving and the leaves of the trees dancing in the breeze. 

The breeze also feels comforting in the 90-degree heat of the air beyond me.

Air is not empty. 

If we had eyes that could detect all the information flowing through the airwaves -- the DNA, the germs, the gases, the cellular and satellite communications, and whatever else floats in the Invisible to our-naked eyes -- I imagine it would look very busy. 

It's a good thing we can't see all that. 

I wonder if Hiram can.

After maybe 5 minutes I walk back indoors. 

I want a snack. 

Chips? Saltines? Orange slices? Ice cream? 

Oooo, I know. I'll eat some crickets! 

I retrieve a one-ounce bag of Cricket Caramel Crunch made by Three Cricketeers out of Minesota. 

Each bag contains three crickets, along with popcorn and peanuts with a caramel coating. 

Thank you crickets. 

In 2007 I penned a poem entitled The Cricket...

A cricket sat upon

My golden glasses' rim

He looked me in the eye

And I looked back at him

His eyes were big and round

One eyelid blinked a wink

I gazed at him and asked

"What is it that you think?"

He bobbed his head, stroked his wings

Playing a solemn tune

Then he answered wisely

Beneath the silver moon

"My life it may be short

Yet I work day and night

My melodies I play

With great purpose and delight

For those in wood and town

The two-legged creatures great

Reminding them that if I cease

They'll know it is too late."

He hopped right off my glasses

And sauntered to the trees

At night now when I hear him

I bow upon my knees

~*~*~

Crickets: The Musicians of the Insect World: Fun facts from Nemo TV

~*~*~

The Cricket Song by Tilly and Bo