I realized this summer just how many crickets we have in our backyard. As a child, through open screen doors and windows, it just wasn't summer unless the multitude of crickets was chirping in the darkness.
What a lovely chorus. One lives inside a potted plant sitting on a step of the deck, leading to our backyard.
He madly serenades his Senorita until he hears us approach, then abruptly cuts short the sonata in mid phrase! He will not begin again until he is absolutely certain it is safe.
We will miss our musical friends now that Fall approaches. I wonder where they spend the Winter?
Summer nights and crickets belong together, a perfect marriage, like the stars and the black abyss of night.
God couldn't have planned it better.
Excuse me, while I sing my own Senorita, a love song on my guitar.
Jiminy Cricket, man.
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