the eighth plague

Earlier this week I drove to Fraser Lake. It was a beautiful hot and sunny day, so I got a lovely sunburn on my left arm and the left side of my face; only the left side, you know how that is.

I had exited the house in such a hurry that I failed to let my tea cool before closing up my travel mug, thus scalding my tongue and throat because my brain stubbornly refused to spit the fiery chamomile out in the otherwise filthy car.

There was a paving crew working just out of town and my 40 minute drive slowed to an hour on the way there, more than an hour on the way home. Much of that time spent sitting stock still, worrying because I had forgotten to check the air pressure in the suspicious looking front tire (which turned out to be fine.)

Radio crapped out and I had nothing to listen to but one really surprisingly bad Beatles CD (Beatles Anthology #3, I think. Novelty. Only fun the first time through.)

But the views are beautiful going west on Highway 16. Forests, with progressions of hills in the distance, green meadows with contented looking dairy cows, and lambs frolicking in the sunshine. Fields of golden grain, with . . .

millions of kamikaze crickets launching themselves like live missiles, meeting my car with a crack and a smoosh as their exoskeletons explode against my windshield and their soft insides paint yellow swooshes on the glass. A dark and gruesome work of art that envelopes the car from bumper to bumper, from hubcap to sunroof. Every stand of trees I pass, offers a reprieve; every hay field brings a fresh ambush.

The next day we drove east, to Prince George in a thunder storm, slowly, through a baptism of megalithic rain drops and even some hail. You could float a small ark in the standing water on the highway at times. And when the sun came out again, as it eventually does, we had been (mostly) cleansed of the grasshopper death art.

You know what? In the past I would have considered a lot of this as ‘unpleasantness’ to avoid. But if I’d avoided it, if I’d even become bogged down in the frustration instead of really being present, I would have missed out on the surreal experience of the grasshopper gauntlet.  And some dark part of me really enjoyed that!

So, it all worked itself out in the end and I wouldn’t change a thing.

Well, ok, maybe the lava tea.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s