Julie Lavender

CONSIDER THE CICADA 
by Julie Lavender

I love my walks with God anywhere, but I especially like the quiet, serene ones that take me out of my neighborhood and away from civilian life. Like the opportunity to hike in the mountains of north Georgia, where I know the roar of vehicles won’t interrupt my thoughts or the occasional plane flying over won’t distract me. Or the pleasant sounds of children playing won’t take me out of my daydreams or prayers.

My husband and I walked in silence, enjoying the beauty of our surroundings, and I mused the quite that enveloped me much as the foliage on my path did,.

But then I paused long enough to realize that it was anything but noiseless.

Crickets chirped in the distance.

A mockingbird sang from a branch overhead.

Two squirrels chattered and scolded, undoubtedly responding to the hawk that just screeched his presence.

Frogs crocked near the edge of the babbling stream off to the left of my path.

Wind whispered through the pines, rustling the needles ever-so-gently.

A brown thrasher flitting about on top of dry leaves, shuffling them out of the way to look for worms.

And that one noise – oh, my, was it loud!! Cicadas.

One of the most fascinating features of many insects is the fact that the juvenile life stages often take place in very different habitats than the adult stage.

The cicada is a perfect example of that feature. There are many different species of cicada insects but all spend time underground as nymphs. Some only spend a year underground, burrowing and tunneling and dining on roots of grasses and trees. Others spend much longer.

The Pharoah cicada nymph spends thirteen or seventeen years underground before crawling from the ground and making its way to the trunk of a tree. The nymph clings to the bark of the tree, makes one last molt, shedding its exoskeleton, and emerges as an adult.

While the nymphs enjoyed nibbling on roots at length, the adult cicada has one purpose: find a mate for the purpose of laying eggs to start the cycle all over again.

Male cicadas flex tymbals, drum-like organs in a mostly-hollow abdomen, making an incredibly loud song that can become extremely noisy in chorus with large numbers of cicadas. Once the obnoxiously-loud singing attracts a female, the insects mate, and the females lay eggs in small grooves of trees.

When the eggs hatch, the first nymphal instar – the nymph goes through several changes before emerging from the dirt – makes its way to the ground and burrows below, starting the cycle all over again.

A quiet walk? Not so much!

The sounds of God’s creations serenaded me, and I almost missed them all! I thought I was enjoying God’s beauty, visually, but yet his masterpieces tickled my ears incessantly. I’m glad the quiet finally screamed loudly enough for me to hear.

What else do I miss throughout my daily activities? I plan to look – and listen – a little harder for God’s beauty.

What about you? What can you do to be more cognizant of God’s beauty around you?