The lady bug appeared in the middle of dinner. Indoors. In January.
So as we sat, drinking wine and enjoying the meal (why is it that food prepared by someone other than yourself is SO delicious!?), we watched this lady bug with fascination. She wandered all around the dining room table and then made her way up the butter dish, right to the rim. She then proceeded to go round and round and round that butter dish, taking extra care to go out of the way of the one speck of butter that sullied the edge.
A busy little orange bug with a myriad of black spots, she made her way industriously around the dining room table, as snow fell softly outside. I was visiting my parents – a quick overnight stop in the picturesque town of Bobcaygeon where they’ve made their retirement home. My son and his friend were at a reunion of camp friends, and rather than make the two and a half hour journey home that night, only to turn around and collect them again the next day, I took the easy way out. My parents are less than an hour from camp.
What she was up to we’ll never know, but she was very persistent! Enough so that we decided to try and take photos. My iPad has no flash, so it was out of the question. My Mum’s point-and-shoot did a reasonable job, as you can see. It didn’t bother the lady bug one little bit.
Not to be outdone, my Dad brought out the “official” camera: a 35 millimetre with lots of bells and whistles. But there was something about that camera that caused our lady bug great distress. She took off quickly – too quickly, it turned out – and dove head first into the butter!
Stunned, we stood motionless for a moment as that little lady bug wiggled all her little legs trying to escape. It was no use. Laughing hysterically now at this sight, I grabbed a knife and did my best to dig her out before she met her buttery death.
Success.
Once returned to the butter dish rim, she started circling. Still getting out of the way of that speck of butter, she went road and round again. The only difference this time? One front leg trying to shake off what I can only imagine was a microscopic bit of butter she could feel.
Still laughing, we headed off into the kitchen to get the dinner dishes done, and leave our lady bug to her journey. By the time we were done, she’d disappeared. It made me wonder about all the times in our lives that we knowingly, or unknowingly repeat the same patterns. Unlike the little lady bug, we have more awareness. We can choose to change our routines. It just takes some doing – and a little of that lady bug’s persistence, like that of the ant who wanted to move the rubber tree plant, to get the job done.
