Light & Insects
There is a special quality to autumn sunlight. The sun retires too early in the day, casting the pavements with thick slanted shadows that signify a day is ending. But the day still stretches out, lazily meandering through the hours, sunny and contented. A gold lacquer is washed over everything: the eyes of a passing cyclist are flecked with it as he rides into the sun; it outlines schoolgirls in fuzzy haloes and velvets the flowers in richer hues. All is orange and warmth: one can perspire readily in a light cardigan and the wild cats scamper the pavements on relaxed paws, in a holiday air. Trees slowly turn from green to ginger fizz.
The grasses and air remain busy with insects. Brown, yellow and orange leaves smack one on the cheek while bicycling to work, only in their trajectory to unfurl as butterflies. On my weekend jaunt to Matsue I found the most beautiful moth on the cold floor, its wings were a chocolate brown with two coin-spots of powder pink on each. Later, Sir S and I screeched our bikes to a halt before the alien allure of a praying mantis which clawed its way across a footpath and stood poised, prepared to take on our bicycles and battle to the death with its twiggy forearms. Its slender body, gumleaf wing and disarray of legs was most unsettling, but most fearsome of all was the way it turned its head to observe each of us in turn, contemplating us with a steady, scornful, unnatural eye.
Spiders, too, abound. Like the elegant Golden Orb* spider of the Australian forests, many web spiders show off a chest-plate of yellow stripes or criss-crosses, possess long spindly legs and an absence of fur, which to me makes them the fairest of arachnids. Cycling home in the evening, Sir S and I could hear the peal of the bell-ringing cricket, or suzumushi, among the grasses, calling to others and, in kind, receiving a soft chime in answer. As well, on Sunday, when we visited the fox shrine, we stumbled upon a golden beetle that buzzed aggressively and thrummed its metallic wings at us in annoyance of its discovery. It reminded me of scarabs from Egyptian settings, and of art nouveau brooches, and thus inspired a Tiffany-infused reverie.
And here ended our entomological escapades.
* Rumoured to have inspired Miss Flora Poste to take up the pen in Cold Comfort Farm.
The grasses and air remain busy with insects. Brown, yellow and orange leaves smack one on the cheek while bicycling to work, only in their trajectory to unfurl as butterflies. On my weekend jaunt to Matsue I found the most beautiful moth on the cold floor, its wings were a chocolate brown with two coin-spots of powder pink on each. Later, Sir S and I screeched our bikes to a halt before the alien allure of a praying mantis which clawed its way across a footpath and stood poised, prepared to take on our bicycles and battle to the death with its twiggy forearms. Its slender body, gumleaf wing and disarray of legs was most unsettling, but most fearsome of all was the way it turned its head to observe each of us in turn, contemplating us with a steady, scornful, unnatural eye.
Spiders, too, abound. Like the elegant Golden Orb* spider of the Australian forests, many web spiders show off a chest-plate of yellow stripes or criss-crosses, possess long spindly legs and an absence of fur, which to me makes them the fairest of arachnids. Cycling home in the evening, Sir S and I could hear the peal of the bell-ringing cricket, or suzumushi, among the grasses, calling to others and, in kind, receiving a soft chime in answer. As well, on Sunday, when we visited the fox shrine, we stumbled upon a golden beetle that buzzed aggressively and thrummed its metallic wings at us in annoyance of its discovery. It reminded me of scarabs from Egyptian settings, and of art nouveau brooches, and thus inspired a Tiffany-infused reverie.
And here ended our entomological escapades.
* Rumoured to have inspired Miss Flora Poste to take up the pen in Cold Comfort Farm.
posted by Miss Ember at 1:03 am
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home