Ancient and wise

The summer I turned seven years old, I caught a large brown grasshopper and kept him in a jar under my bed for awhile. His appearance and demeanor struck me as being wise and ancient, so I named him King of my "animal kingdom," which consisted of stuffed toys. Eventually I released King Grasshopper into the yard he'd come from, and the stuffed animals reverted from monarchy back to their former peaceful anarchy.

It's grasshopper days again — searing hot, dry, dusty; and they're everywhere, leaping with a buzz in long, graceful half-flights to a distant patch of grass, dozens scattering when you walk by. I still think they look like dinosaur contemporaries with inscrutable faces.