They are a startling sight. Black and gold striped bodies hanging casually on the linen curtains on the French windows. I don’t know how they get in. This morning I found two, far apart. I take a glass tumbler and capture them. Today was tricky, because I had to capture one, carefully place it on the table while I got the other. The second wasp was agitated, so I had to wait until it stopped buzzing and trying to escape. Then I quickly released them into the garden.

It is November, but the bees are still finding their way to the flowers, and the wasps are finding their way into the house. I don’t know ow if they built a nest in, say, the attic space. I don’t think I have an attic; more a crawl space. I used to worry squirrels got in, when I heard the sound of chairs falling, which I was once told is the noise a trapped squirrel in the attic makes. I like my nature outside, I confess. I will walk out the spiders, but swat the mosquitoes.

Then there are the ants. Ants have been making their presence known in streams of military lines which I fight off. They come in all sizes. But I no longer use traps, as I think that what my senior might have licked to damage her stomach. She is on the mend, and I place the cat food in saucers of water. I do the same for my sugar and honey bowls.

Outside, as I write, the leaves are a brilliant mix of orange and yellow, and the blue sky is puffy with clouds. Robins have been eating the last of the wild berries, and the monument is already strung up with holiday lights. I am not sure why the wasps are active, and I hope they will quietly move. Maybe they came in with the flowers I received from my family. Maybe they hitched a ride. In any case, they are set free, back to nature, to build their nests, grow families.