THE WASP

As a child I was afraid of wasps.  They could sting me.  And they were creepy looking.  And they flew so slowly. . . . how was that possible?  They seemed to hang about in space, drifting, not really flying.  They seemed to have no place to go.  In my mind, they were hovering over me and watching my every move, waiting for just the right time to dive bomb whatever it was that was responsible for inflicting pain right into whatever span of my skin was available.  In many ways they were much more sinister than bees ever were.  


Here in the upstairs room of the vintage 1750's house that I currently call home, stink bugs and flies and wasps have taken up residence for the winter.  Not lots of them.  Not enough to complain about.  Just kind of a coexistence from the cold.  The stink bugs are a no-brainer. . . . they sit right where they are and don't even flinch when you approach them with a piece of toilet paper to scoop them up and flush them down the toilet.  Last night at book club we were comparing ways of ridding a room of stink bugs.  The toilet paper/flush connection is mine.  The flies seem to die before I ever see them alive.  They are just dead on the bathroom floor having expired from god knows what.  Maybe they die of old age.  I was gone for 11 days.  What is the life span of a fly?


But last night I noticed the wasp.  A loner.   No other wasps around.   I admit to stomping on a few in the past few weeks, and then sending them to their watery graves via flushing mechanism.  However, this wasp seemed different.  Last night he (of course he's a boy. . .I have no idea how I know this) and I were the only living things in this big old house.  And for the first time I looked upon him as more of a companion than a threat.


And while I was organizing my stuff, unpacking and preparing to retire for the night, I had occasion to observe him.   He likes light.  I had the overhead light on and he flew from the window, where the light had deserted him, and landed on the thin chain that operates the overhead light/fan in the middle of the room.  He just sat there on that metal chain.  And I realized he was seeking warmth too, because the metal chain hung down from the light.  It had to be warm.  


And then I realized that he and I were not that much different.  I was seeking warmth too. . .but he didn't have a Forever Lazy to climb in to.  He had a chain on a light.   I was going to have to  pull on that chain to extinguish the light and it was a little nerve wracking to walk over and and reach up to put my hand so close to where he sat.  Would he come after me?  Would he seek his warmth on my Forever Lazy?  But then I began to feel bad for him that I was taking away his source of light and warmth.   So I went in to the bathroom and turned on the overhead light, which fortunately is on a dimmer so that I would not have to burn it full out all night.  I hoped he would go in there for the duration of the night.   And when it was completely dark in the room, save for the dim light coming out of the bathroom,  I wasn't afraid at all.  I just wished him well.


This morning he is on the window where the bright sunshine is pouring through.   I know from how he is acting that he wishes he could fly outside.  But I know more than he does. He would not survive in the 32 degree temps outside.   I'm leaving in a few minutes for DC and my regular Tuesday choir rehearsal.  I leave him the room with my blessing.  I don't know if he will be here when I get back.  What is the life span of a wasp?