I grew up referring to them jarflies. You may know them as annual cicadas, summer cicadas, Dog Days cicadas, harvest flies, or even locust, though a real locust is a sort of grasshopper. Whatever you call them, their distinctive grinding buzz, a whirring cross between a rattlesnake and a miniature chainsaw, is the true voice of summer.
Fact is, in my way of reckoning, summer's season doesn't start at June's passing solstice. No, sir! It officially begins with the drone of a jarfly. A sound I listen for and look forward to hearing—though one which, so far this year, had remained worrisomely silent. Until today. While sipping my morning coffee, I heard the first cicada singing away from some backyard treetop.
"Ahh-h," I said to Myladylove and Moon-the-Dog, both resolutely immersed in their breakfasting, and neither of whom tends to keep sharply abreast of such vital matters, "listen to that strident jarfly's news…summer has finally arrived!"
Fact is, in my way of reckoning, summer's season doesn't start at June's passing solstice. No, sir! It officially begins with the drone of a jarfly. A sound I listen for and look forward to hearing—though one which, so far this year, had remained worrisomely silent. Until today. While sipping my morning coffee, I heard the first cicada singing away from some backyard treetop.
"Ahh-h," I said to Myladylove and Moon-the-Dog, both resolutely immersed in their breakfasting, and neither of whom tends to keep sharply abreast of such vital matters, "listen to that strident jarfly's news…summer has finally arrived!"
12 comments:
First, I looked up 'strident'. I learn so much from reading your blog.
Great word that!
I have not yet heard one, but I am beginning to see the dried shells and holes in the ground. Soon. And the birds will feast upon them. I never cease to be amazed at the sparrows who take on those huge buzzing armored insects. And win!
Debbie
Debbie…
Hey, I'm always looking up words I'm not familiar with or a bit unsure about their exact shade of meaning. Words are important. Strident is just a good old backyard garden, denim-wearing, practical word—functionally concise to description, without being grandiloquent in tone as would, say, cacophonous, which means much the same thing. Sometimes you want to be fancy, but generally just detailed and expressive without going over the top.
Yesterday's first of the season cicada was a actually a bit late for around here. I typically hear one before Independence Day. Of course, today is predicted to be our first rain-free day in over three weeks, so we've certainly had rather wet going since the solstice. Great for roses and grass, problematic maybe for jarflies.
BTW, if you're amazed at the sort of David and Goliath aspect of sparrows feeding on them, you'll probably be revolted when I tell you I know certain folks—two-legged human beings with college degrees and good-paying jobs—who eat them, too. And no, I have no idea why.
HI GRIZZ - i love how you know of nature and seasons by sound and feel and look and so forth. Way better than any 'technical reports'. I haven't heard any cicadas here and a swarm was predicted but none arrived!!
And ya, strident is a good word although I most remember it in a name of an acne medication "Strident Medicated Pads", :-)
I looked it up-
Conspicuously and offensively loud; given to vehement outcry
"strident demands";
- blatant, clamant, clamorous, vociferous
Of speech sounds produced by forcing air through a constricted passage (as 'f', 's', 'z', or 'th' in both 'thin' and 'then')
- fricative, continuant, sibilant, spirant
Being sharply insistent on being heard
"strident demands";
- shrill
Unpleasantly loud and harsh
- raucous
and there you have it. Also, I commented prior to this one but I think it got lost or it is lurking about!!
Love to you
Gail
peace....
The much touted cicada hordes that were supposed to overwhelm the East Coast early this summer never materialized--at least not in my neck of the woods. I have yet to hear an annual cicada this summer, but maybe they've begun to emerge in eastern Pennsylvania--Kali and I have been in the West for a week. They (and the katydids) are the true harbingers of high summer.
Gail…
First off, I might be slow, and I occasionally by accident answer one out of order…but I absolutely always answer a comment. You take the time to write, I take the time to write back; fair is fair. So, I assure you, I didn't get a prior comment.
Now, as to the fine old word strident. Words are tools, to everyone who speaks or writes if we want to be understood, to make make our thoughts and wishes known. But they're especially important to a writer, who seeks to project exactly what is in his mind exactly and very precisely into the mind of the reader. Shades of meaning, tone, etc., using words to invoke life and place and weather and story. The more tools we have, the better and easier we can operate. As a carpenter's son, I understand about specific tools—sometimes you need a framing hammer, sometimes a finish hammer, or a rip saw vs. fine saw.
I'm just tickled you looked it up; now strident is in your toolbox, too. :-)
Handyman and I were just sitting in the living room resting after a hard day, when...what to my wondering ears should be heard? Cicadas! First time I've noticed them. But I can't say the experience piqued my appetite. :D
Debbie
Scott…
I kept reading all "the cicadas are coming! the cicadas are coming!" predictions. And then, about when practically every town and village in their target brood-class areas should have been knee-deep in buzzing bugs…nothing. No photos of freeway-clogging wind drifts of cicada carcasses. No stand-up reports featuring cute blond weather girls bravely trying to deliver an on-the-scene description of Nature Run Amok while hordes of love-sick cicadas screeched shrilly in the background. Nada. Zip. Nary a jarfly made the news. At least not that I saw. Apparently the foretold legions of periodic cicadas failed to swarm the countryside, in many (most?) places, or even appear sparsely. Kinda the cicada version of how the late and lamented George Jones frequently gave his own concerts a miss—earning himself the fond and oft-repeated sobriquet, No-Show Jones. This was the year of, collectively speaking, the No-Show Cicadas.
Have fun in the West! It's finally summer here.
Debbie…
Huh, and here I was hoping I'd opened a new line of backyard gastronomy for you to follow and report. Surely you could work them into some sort of tasty Tex-Mex dish! Give another listen and reconsider.
I loves me a good ol cacophony! Haven't heard any here yet, but look forward to it!
Giggles…
Keep yer fuzzy li'l ears a'twitchin' because them ol' jarflies are about to cut loose in perfervid stridulation.
GRIZZ- -role play time. Ricky, its me Lucy. Gonna splain sumthin to you.....
I cant do the whole thing in role but you get my humor and the gist :-)
Grizz, when I mentioned the lost comment in no way did i EVER think you got it and didn't post it. Never. I mentioned it because if it did show up after the one you posted it would be pretty weird since it said the same thing albeit a bit different wording or whatever but basically the same so I was letting you know a comment might be lost in the internet loop of techno mazes and could appear! Never ever even thought you had gotten it, I knew you had not. OK Ricky? :-) Did I splain it ok? :-)
love to you'
Gail
peace.....
Gail…
Lucy, tha' was a pretty good job 'splainin'!
(We're good; always was.)
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