And then there was Jeff
Anyone who knows me well may be surprised to hear I’ve invited a long-term house guest to stay the winter in Maine.
As close friends and family could tell you, I cherish my privacy and the quiet beauty of the woods. But I just didn’t have the heart to send Jeff away.
And now I’ve grown quite fond of him – or, at least, the sight of him.
I discovered Jeff last December early one morning in the kitchen as I reached for the coffee pot. He looked exhausted, even discouraged, as he slowly crawled across the counter.
I poured a tiny puddle of water a few inches from his microscopic legs, assuming he had to be thirsty. Unfortunately, the deluge startled him and he jumped backwards, clearly zapping any remaining energy he had left.
“Sorry,” I whispered, and decided to leave him alone while I ate my breakfast.
After I pulled on my jacket and snow boots to walk the dog in the woods, I glanced back at the counter and noticed Jeff leaning over the puddle. He appeared to be drinking!
For the next few mornings, as soon as I woke up, I checked on Jeff to make sure he was okay. Sometimes I found him by the salt shaker, other times near the faucet.
Then one morning I couldn’t find him anywhere, and panicked a little, until I carefully scanned every inch of the kitchen. He was hanging upside down from my beet plant on the windowsill, as if fast asleep.
A beautifully shaped delicate green bug, I had assumed Jeff was an aphid. I don’t know why I assumed that, other than Jeff is what I thought an aphid looked like. Observing him in this troublesome position, I decided to google aphids to see how they normally spend the cold winter months, and whether it involved hanging upside down.
But I quickly discovered Jeff didn’t look anything like an aphid – and, in fact, appeared to be a stink bug!
Immediately, I felt disappointed… but how ridiculous. I was allowing the label (a label created by humans, not other bugs) to change my perception of my tiny friend.
Suddenly I felt even more protective of Jeff and read everything I could about stink bugs. It turns out he was comfortably hibernating and would stay put (in the safe, quiet, warm corner he had chosen) until late April – at which time he would need to be transferred outside to do what stink bugs (and most species) do in the spring.
No matter how misguided our human intentions may seem to each other – whether based on religious, political, social, or philosophical beliefs – I’ve always felt most everyone (deep down) wants to do their part to make the earth a better place. Preserving our planet is our shared humanity.
But lately, I’ve had my doubts. And I’ve found myself questioning my place in a world that seems to be spinning tragically out of control. Do I make a difference? Are my actions valuable? Should I keep trying? Is it all worth it?
…and then there was Jeff.
As close friends and family could tell you, I cherish my privacy and the quiet beauty of the woods. But I just didn’t have the heart to send Jeff away.
And now I’ve grown quite fond of him – or, at least, the sight of him.
I discovered Jeff last December early one morning in the kitchen as I reached for the coffee pot. He looked exhausted, even discouraged, as he slowly crawled across the counter.
I poured a tiny puddle of water a few inches from his microscopic legs, assuming he had to be thirsty. Unfortunately, the deluge startled him and he jumped backwards, clearly zapping any remaining energy he had left.
“Sorry,” I whispered, and decided to leave him alone while I ate my breakfast.
After I pulled on my jacket and snow boots to walk the dog in the woods, I glanced back at the counter and noticed Jeff leaning over the puddle. He appeared to be drinking!
For the next few mornings, as soon as I woke up, I checked on Jeff to make sure he was okay. Sometimes I found him by the salt shaker, other times near the faucet.
Then one morning I couldn’t find him anywhere, and panicked a little, until I carefully scanned every inch of the kitchen. He was hanging upside down from my beet plant on the windowsill, as if fast asleep.
A beautifully shaped delicate green bug, I had assumed Jeff was an aphid. I don’t know why I assumed that, other than Jeff is what I thought an aphid looked like. Observing him in this troublesome position, I decided to google aphids to see how they normally spend the cold winter months, and whether it involved hanging upside down.
But I quickly discovered Jeff didn’t look anything like an aphid – and, in fact, appeared to be a stink bug!
Immediately, I felt disappointed… but how ridiculous. I was allowing the label (a label created by humans, not other bugs) to change my perception of my tiny friend.
Suddenly I felt even more protective of Jeff and read everything I could about stink bugs. It turns out he was comfortably hibernating and would stay put (in the safe, quiet, warm corner he had chosen) until late April – at which time he would need to be transferred outside to do what stink bugs (and most species) do in the spring.
No matter how misguided our human intentions may seem to each other – whether based on religious, political, social, or philosophical beliefs – I’ve always felt most everyone (deep down) wants to do their part to make the earth a better place. Preserving our planet is our shared humanity.
But lately, I’ve had my doubts. And I’ve found myself questioning my place in a world that seems to be spinning tragically out of control. Do I make a difference? Are my actions valuable? Should I keep trying? Is it all worth it?
…and then there was Jeff.
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