THE MOTORS OF AUGUST CICADAS
by Janet A. Ginsburg
I am being serenaded by cicadas and it is glorious. They are the sound of summer, the neon hum to the flicker dance of lightning bugs on warm humid nights. Cicadas are everywhere and nowhere. How can something that loud and large be so hard to spot?
Their past-life suits, discarded in a final molt, pile up near trees, many abandoned mid-climb. Each is perfect in every exquisite detail, with a slit along the back where its owner wriggled out into a new life – with wings! – so utterly different from the subterranean world of its childhood....
To read the full article, including info on prehistoric cicadas and how 17-year cicadas manage to count to 17, go to the archives page at germtales.com
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Thanks for your interest!
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