"Oh, yeah," I thought. Any farm kid knows about stink bugs.
Of course, these bugs are not native. Evidently our stink bugs when I was growing up were either native or sneaked over on a boat way back in history, but any of us growing up on the farm knew that a stink bug was aptly named.

Dad taught me that pluses that are attached to the little critters. The praying mantis and lady bugs were not only fascinating but ate nasty bugs. Dad and I listened to the katydid and the crickets. He revealed hidden stick bugs that blended in the shrubs looking like on more stick. The praying mantis changed colors according to its background hiding it from its prey. Flies and horseflies were just part of the landscape. So many bugs.

From an early age, I learned about the cicada that left their shells clinging to the old mulberry tree in the yard. Dad would attach the sharp feet of the golden shell to my shirt like a pennant for a farm girl. I would gather as many of these treasure as I could find and delighted in showing my children and my granddaughter the mysterious little shells clinging to the tree bark.

Yes, there is a lot to be said for being a farm girl, the one who lived back the lane on Neff Road. Sometimes my lessons were leaned and my life made a bit richer by looking a bit closer at the world beneath the leaves. A good life lesson.
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