Every morning the first thing I do after sliding out of bed and prying my eyes open, I head to the front window and look outside to get an idea of what the day the might hold for me. This morning, for the first time since Spring thawed everything out, I saw frost on the windshield of my car. The sun was just starting to walk up the horizon, and the light dazzling on the frost made it look like a dusting of diamonds across the glass.
I turned around and saw something on the wall. It was a small red ruby jewel with obsidian spots, and tiny legs carrying it across the off-white of my walls. A coccinella septempunctata. Known as a Ladybird in England, or a Ladybug here in the U.S. Personally I’ve always associate them with springtime, so my brain was struggling, trying to make sense of this weird dichotomy of frost outside but springtime bugs inside. I watched it for several minutes, going up the wall, back down, and then up again.
My first instinct was to put it outside, but then I thought about the frost. It must have wandered inside at some moment to escape the cold, and I saw no real reason to throw it back out there. I’m not much of a gardener, but I know enough to know that Ladybugs are useful bugs, bugs that eat those other bugs like aphids that might attack plants. Now it seems I’ll have my own personal defender of all my inside plants for the winter, at least as long as the Ladybug sticks around.
I know this has nothing whatsoever to do with writing, but I found it all rather strange. If I were superstitious, I might take the Ladybug for some kind of omen, although I have no idea what kind. Until proven otherwise, I’m grateful to have this little jewel of a bug sharing my home. It’s welcome to stay as long as it wants.