October 20, 2009
Nebraska, with its capacity for dishing out weather intended for the sturdy and long-suffering, has almost always offered up an October that we call our best month with its lovely temperatures, golden fields, and changing colors. This year, we had record cold temperatures and heavy grey skies that frightened the cautious tress into dropping their leaves immediately, or browning out in a way that has those of us who tend toward optimism exclaiming about the “bronzes and hues of grey”. There are a few gold, orange and red trees and bushes scattered about and their sparse numbers make them the gems of Sanctuary.
Today returned us to sunlight and 70 degree temps and almost as soon as we stood out on the porch inhaling deeply, we were inundated with hordes of Asian ladybugs, those not so charming relatives to the Native ladybugs that we all loved dearly as children. Our own never bit us, nor did they swarm; rather we could recite happily the rhyme, “Ladybug, ladybug, fly away home, your house is on fire and your children are gone” while blowing gently on the creature and waiting for it to take flight. Today’s arrivals gave our house the appearance of having zits, and each time the door was opened, several would rush indoors. Apparently, as they came, so they shall depart – not welcome, but not harmful either.
This morning was the monthly port-flush and CBC event at the Clinic. My blood continues the long slow slide that began after the last attempt at a chemotherapy treatment. The white blood cells arrived at the low level of “no immunities to speak of” quite some time ago. I think we thought that if it kept going lower and lower yet, somehow this state of no protection would become direr, but the oncologist said that I was already “there”, meaning, I think, that when you’re naked, you’re naked. The hemoglobin is at 9.6, and when it nears 8, then the red blood transfusions begin. Until then, one is very tired, but the transfusions do not bump you up as much as when the count goes lower. My biggest concern remains the H1N1 flu. I was told that dosages may arrive tomorrow and I will be able to come in for an injection. There are shortages of all flu inoculations here in rural Nebraska at the moment, so we will see if this becomes a reality.
One of the best known of all nursery rhymes is the one that begins “Ladybug ladybug fly away home, your house in on fire and your children are gone.”
In Medieval England farmers would set torches to the old hop (used in flavoring beer) vines after the harvest in order to clear the fields for the next planting. This poem was sung as a warning to the ladybugs that were still crawling on the vines in search of aphids.