Ladybirds

The cottage is under a plague. Not of locusts – but of ladybirds.

After a rainstorm last Wednesday, I went outside to the woodshed, to collect some wood. (Well, what were you expecting?) Turning around on my way back to the kitchen door, I was amazed by the hundreds, if not thousands of ladybirds crawling across the white clapboards. Astounded. In awe.

All was fine until they started heading indoors. I have red ones with black spots, and black ones with red spots. I have little ones, big ones, nasty buzzy flying ones and sneaky ones that come in through the gap by the kitchen window and also around the back door (as far as I can tell). The catflap seems impervious. So far.

On Saturday morning, my patience was breached by a battalion of the buggers on the kitchen ceiling, walls, windows and so forth. I went to war, armed with a dustpan and brush.

An hour later, I went to war again.

And an hour after that, again.

Personally, I was more worried about the ones I knew were there, but couldn’t find after I turned my back to find the dustpan and brush.

I stopped cursing the spiders, and began egging them on.