A Sweet Bite Of Life

 

“I don’t get the draw,” my wife said, quickly biting into a Jordan Almond. How could she understand the depth of my relationship? Jordan Almonds was childhood innocence, teenage sweat and romance with sweet sugar coating. Right up there with Nonpariels. The nonpareil attraction I can blame on my grandmother. I can never eat them without making them into a little chocolate shaped hamburger by bringing the flat ends together. Sitting on that couch in her North Hollywood apartment my sister and I were always plied with sweets. So it was that those candies connected that kid on that couch to my first job as a teenager.

I was twelve year old and every Saturday morning my friend Keith and I worked at our Lawn Mowing service; Barbro mowing (Barnes and Brook). We’d roll that Briggs and Stratton lawnmower and gas-powered edger to our neighbors’ yard. Professional edging and mowing; I think that’s what our business card said. We did a damn good job; matter of fact. Keith doing the edging and me mowing. Collect our money and move onto the next yard. Some weekends we’d reward ourselves with a walk to JC Penney. JC Penney had these large glass display cases, imagine a goldfish tank, filled with every kind of candy. Always part of my lawnmowing take went to the purchase of nonpareils or Jordan Almonds. Because boys like candy…and girls.

Old friends won’t be surprised she was a red-head (years later this trend would yield to some catastrophe; but that’s a story for a different day). There’s the one that got away and the one you never had. She’s the never had. In junior high Keith and I named our imaginary consulting company after her. Always elusive, she may not have ever known she was my crush until we told her at reunion. Her name was Jordana. Like the candy.

Of course she didn’t get the draw. It wasn’t just the Jordan Almond. It was youth, laughter, wonder, innocence and puberty. No quick crushing bite of life. It’s that rich coming into fullness, savoring that sweet sugar coating and the reward of that final almond crunch.  

 

Pheremones and Home Invasions

                           Photo by Michael Milverton on Unsplash

I vacuumed up two more ladybugs this morning. One with dotted bright red-orange that one expects to find on a ladybug. One with a color bordering porcelain and parchment. A scattered few seeking refuge but finding their demise. No colonies setting up camp; thank goodness! An internet search states they’re seeking winter warmth. Funny how nature is wonderful and stunning when outside your house but frustrating, annoying and frightening when she invades it.

Tar-like brown oozed from the air vent and dripped into the bathroom in my old southern California house. A mystery this! Perhaps there were issues caused by the new roofing? Only years later when bees were becoming an issue outside the house that the apiarists addressed the problem. A large beehive had been built in the attic! So they were removed with a catch. Bees, like ladybugs and myriad other pests leave a trail of pheromones. And so they returned. To be removed again.

We’ve all seen the industrious ant in some nature documentary. Fascinating and fearsome in their subterranean tunnels; fierce in flood and forest trees. We had a flood of our own in the form of a burst pipe in our neighbor’s apartment. The water itself would have been trouble enough. Then came the ants. A square outline as they marched around inside our closet. Streaming from the baseboard in bathroom and hallway. Trails of pheromones, ants on conquest. Perhaps, as I write this, the pest control has succeeded in shoring up the walls. I expect a breach at any moment.

There is a wonder in it all. The myriad types of ants; crazy ants, fire ants, carpenter ants. Fortunately, these tiny ones in this invasion aren’t fond of sugar. The kitchen holds out thus far. There is the beauty of the ladybug. The mysterious way in which she finds entry into our place. The ants are militaristic, sending out scouts, scouring wood, enlarging territory. Ladybugs are gentle as though they would ask permission to alight and winter with you if they could. My answer would be no. I am grateful for the diet of the ladybug which protects my rose bush. Happy to have the ants aerate my garden. Ladybugs stain, bees sting and ants bite. There’s a reason for the words ‘inside’ and ‘outside’. Inside home, a haven. Outside, the garden, in all its’ fear and perplexity.