I say tomotta
You say sikayda
I say chicahda
I have always pronounced the word cicada: "chicahda", and quite frankly, was stunned when I heard the more common pronunciation of "sikayda". Actually, my BFF was the first person I heard pronounce it that way. I didn't want to be rude and tell her she was pronouncing it incorrectly, so (wisely) I kept mum. Then I watched the news, and sure enough, the newscaster pronounced it "sikayda" also. So I was compelled to "Google" the word, to see which pronunciation was correct. There are a number of variations, all depending on where you come from. The way I pronounce it is rooted in the Italian version of “cicala” (“chi-kah-la”). I, in my stubbornness, will continue to pronounce it "chicahda", even though I am not Italian. I am Polish (partly), and that version would probably be "chicahdahski". (I wouldn't go that far, even if it was a real word!)
Yesterday, thirty something son and I went cicada hunting. I had seen a few isolated fellows flying around my neighborhood, but I hadn't heard the unique and deafening roar of the multitudes. We were not disappointed, as we found a wooded area near his home, and stopped to observe this wonder of nature in progress. We actually saw them before hearing them, as many were flying erratically, like drunken dive bombers.
I am, as always, awed by nature. I find this particular phenomenon to be particularly intriguing. We watched, and listened, and took a few photos, lucky enough to catch two while mating, their interlocking wings like two drawn curtains, partially covering them, as if for modesty's sake. We even stopped to save one that was stuck on his back, flailing about in a small puddle. (I was trying to make up for all of the spiders I've been sucking up in my vacuum, but that's another blog post.)
I am, as always, awed by nature. I find this particular phenomenon to be particularly intriguing. We watched, and listened, and took a few photos, lucky enough to catch two while mating, their interlocking wings like two drawn curtains, partially covering them, as if for modesty's sake. We even stopped to save one that was stuck on his back, flailing about in a small puddle. (I was trying to make up for all of the spiders I've been sucking up in my vacuum, but that's another blog post.)
By the way, the last time the cicadas emerged, I was 41 years old. Next time it happens, I will be 75. The fifty something freshman has done something we women hate to do-I just admitted my true age (you do the math).
They are difficult to see by the leaves, but there they are... |
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