We've lived in our current location for about twenty three years. It's a couple of acres tucked up in the foothills, a definitely rural location.
One thing that I've found so fascinating about living here is that every year has it's own little Nature Quirks and Peccadilloes. One year, there were ladybug larvae scattered everywhere, like sprinkles on cupcakes. Another year it was fuzzy black caterpillars. You couldn't take two steps or put on a pair of shoes you'd left on the front porch without squishing one. One year we had an ungodly number of potato bugs. This year it's earwigs. ::shudder:: Every pile of paper I pick up, every hose I drag somewhere, every shovel I turn over has a bleepin' earwig under it. Enough with the earwigs, already!
Okay, now that I've gotten that out of my system, I have to say that I think these Annual Nature Quirks and Peccadilloes are actually pretty amazing. They seem profound to me, in some way I can't quite articulate. As if each year is it's own unique year, no matter that so much of it is filled with the same ol' same ol'. It seems like material proof that the world moves in its own mysterious cycles and rhythms, patterns which we are a part of, even though we aren't always aware how we fit in there.
And no, this has nothing to do with writing, but I can spend hours pondering this phenomenon, so I thought I'd share. Just be glad I spared you a picture of an earwig...