July 8

 In Michigan

Another harbinger of things to come, a singular cicada called tentatively this afternoon from somewhere high up in the tall white pines that border the lake.

Earlier, I waded out into the water to cool off from the summer heat, and while walking out through the sandy bottom, waves gently lapping at my waist, I happened upon a young cicada which was struggling upside down on the surface. It was trying desperately to right its wings in order to dry them and escape.

I reached down and cupped both hands underneath, gently lifting upward so that the insect rested gently in my palm, allowing itself to go upright and crawl slowly onto my pinky finger with its wings properly folded backward on its body.

As I walked slowly back to the dock, the cicada rapidly beat its wings, not to fly or call out, but I suspected only to hasten their drying. It was only when I tried to coax it off my finger onto the dock post that it began to protest, making the distinctive rasping noise somewhere within its diminutive body. It was like having the clarion call of late summer in the palm of my hand.

Notes:

Yellow Goat’s Beard in seed

Swamp Milkweed in Bloom

Cattail in Bloom