I sat on the stone steps of my side porch with my daughter on the lawn playing freeze tag with her friends, but was I watching their game?
No. I was watching an Epic Ant Battle that has been taking place on my body segment laden walkway off and on for weeks. Now what is the common response to finding an overwhelming congregation of ant colonies with locked pincers hell bent on their foes destruction? Step on them? Find a magnifying glass (despite the overcast sky)? You’re probably right, but that’s not what I did.
First, I went inside and grabbed a couple Doritos and placed them in key regions of the battle. Several dozen ants were suddenly distracted by the sudden in flux of food and chose peace.
Second, I grabbed a teaspoon of Cinnamon and poured a line of it across the path of one of the ant colonies. They all grew confused and were forced to turn back from their intended location. (Ants will not cross a line of Cinnamon. Don’t believe me? Go check it out for yourself. If you’re a mad scientist and geek like me.)
Then I sat back, teeming with wonder, and watched as the confused and inconvenienced insects continued their engagement.
Suddenly the wind picked up just a bit, the leaves flipped up to show their underside, the smell of firewood cindering in a distant fire pit drifted through, the clouds rolling along as they had all afternoon, and I stopped to bask in that moment. Then, without cause, I announced, “Weather’s about to change, guys.”
The kids continued to play, putting no stock in my words, because how would I know? Then it happened.
The sky opened.
Torrential downpour, thunderclaps, high winds, the kind of weather you long for or dread, depending on who you are. I long for it.
And apparently sense it like a barometer. It was pretty cool. And now, less than twenty minutes later, the sun is out and birds are singing. I love New England.
I think I am done rambling.