The cicadas have taken off with a vengence this last fortnight as summer has kicked up the thermostat. They are emerging from their underground burrows where they have been living for up to seven years feeding on the sap of tree roots. In the morning these discarded shells cling to outside walls and tree stems.
When we were children my sister and I collected them by the handful and wore them as brooches on our tops or stuck them in our hair. While I write this at 7am they are in full swing and their mating songs are nearly deafening. They rarely live ‘in the fresh air’ for more than a week, which seems an incredibly short time after living underground for so long and must be why they give it all they have got to attract a mate.