The fruit fly is tiny. About 3 to 4 millimeters in size. Its brain? The size of a poppy seed. Here's what else I learned today: a fruit fly can kill you.
How is that possible? Let me describe just exactly how my life nearly ended at the hands of a fruit fly.
It was a very normal morning. Cool of course, but, it's the first day of Fall, so yes, it's going to be cool. I slept a good six hours -- a vast improvement over the four the previous night. Breakfast? I'm still improvising. Skip the tray, lay it out on the window sill. Easier to reach while I'm reading.
Millie is curious about the offerings.
I give her a bit of yogurt in a "pup cup." She licks it, but with that attitude of "doing me a favor." We both doze off afterwards. Sleepy weather. But I force myself to get going. Lots to do in the garden today!
In the car you go, Millie! And we're off.
Happy Dogz (her doggie daycare place) is a 17 minute drive, mostly along the Beltline. (For the non-Madisonians, the Beltline is one of those city highways that wraps itself around the city, or at least the southern part of it. The speed limit is 55 mph (88.5km), but many stray into the low 60s. Still, it's a "polite" highway. Many of us use it daily and we know where the bottlenecks are, and we know that it empties out as we reach the western section. Most of us are careful drivers. When a maniac speeds by, we all shake our heads and hope he or she will get stopped by a cop.
Careful as I am, perhaps I am also a bit complacent. Today, I sort of lost it in the car. I had left a bag full of compost over the weekend to take over to the farmette and it had leaked. I managed to clean up the mess yesterday. Or so I thought. On my morning drive today, I notice the fruit flies. There weren't hundreds of them, but there was a good handful and they were irritating to the max, flying around me, the windshield, darting quickly, raising my ire and raising, too, my protective instincts: they must be driving Millie mad back there. They're certainly driving me mad! I start swatting at them. With my elbow. My palm. Clapping, slapping, with only partial success. Fruit flies know how to evade the likes of me.
I drop Millie at the daycare (she seemed unruffled by the fruit fly saga) and turn around to return home. Same highway. And that's when I saw it -- a crash, just ahead of me. Many vehicles were involved and one was completely flipped over. How could that even happen on this city highway? How does a car flip upside down? Of course, there were ambulances on the scene. Of course there were. I expect to be reading about it in tomorrow's press.
And I thought -- that could have been me. Two minutes earlier, distracted by fruit flies, I could have been in that mess. I could have died at the hands of a tiny fruit fly.
All this to say that yet again, I consider myself lucky. Jumping from stone to stone on a path through turbulent waters, teetering sometimes, but somehow, I have managed to stay afloat. Remarkable.
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Fourteen years ago today I attended my daughter's wedding. How fortunate that those two met and fell in love! How lucky for me that they live nearby with their bevy of kids. Happy anniversary, you two! May you grow and prosper and be lucky in life!
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I work in the garden. Enough said. No, wait: not enough said: I toiled today! From 11 until 3 (that is 4 hours in case your math skills aren't up to snuff), I dug holes and shoveled out turf. I dislodged rocks and carried all of the debris to the vacant lot. There was a reason for my insanity (such hard work!). They're going to do something about that lot tomorrow (it's leeching mud into people's driveways) and it may well be that my dumping ground will disappear. And by the way, my driveway is not covered with leeching mud because I dumped turf in the corner of the lot closest to me. The turf held back the stream of mud that everyone else got. That was unintended consequence for sure!
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In the afternoon, I pick up Snowdrop after school.
Yesterday (which was not my caregiving day), for the first time, she took the school bus home. Most kids love that ride. Snowdrop, who is enthusiastic about pretty much everything that comes her way, hated it. Why?? -- we ask her. Too loud, no friends are on the route, mean bus driver. Since I would have to leave my house the same time, whether or not she takes the bus, I offer to pick her up on my days, at least until she gets used to the ride, the noise, the kids, the mean bus driver.
On our way home, we stop at the market to get some flowers for her parents.
And back at her house, we read, but honestly, it can be a challenge for me these days. Why is the print in books now in shades of gray? When did it stop being black?
When we're done, she tells me that one of the books I purchased for her during the Barnes&Noble outing last Friday is not one she will ever read. (It's pretty depressing -- dont know how we missed that in the store.) Since we have a few minutes left, I suggest we return it right away (or else I'll forget about it and it will be a wasted purchase). And of course, once we're at the bookstore, she pleads for their hot chocolate.
It's getting late and I really should return her home, but she really really wants to go with me to pick up Millie. "I haven't seen her for weeks!"
And then Millie and I drive home, I see that there are still some fruit flies in the car. I resist the urge to swipe at them. After all, they have a lifespan of what, 50 days? Yes yes, I know, each fly can lay 500 eggs, but I'm not worried. We are in Wisconsin. Fruit flies, eggs and all, cannot survive in freezing temperatures.
with so much love...
