It’s 10:30 P.M., and
the faint glow in the northwest is still speckled with dark patches of clouds,
remnants of this afternoon’s brief thundershower. My window is wide open,
letting in the soft warm air, and once in awhile the frogs in the pond outside
my window pipe up, mutter for a while, then fall silent again. Leo’s deep bark
sounds a bit further away, though no more than the driveway: he feels brave as
long as he stays close to the house. It is a peaceful summer night. From here,
I cannot even hear the high whine of the thousands – millions? – of mosquitoes
that has become part of the soundscape for us in the last week or so – not that
I miss it.
It was to be expected
that this would happen sooner or later: 222 mm – almost nine inches – of rain
in July left water standing not only in the low lying areas of the fields but
also in the lawn. It didn’t take very long for the mosquitoes to catch on:
their population exploded, and doing any kind of work in areas where they can
gather is a challenge. At first, I hadn’t taken it so seriously: they bite,
yes, and the bites swell a little, but by the next day nothing is left.
Immunity, right? Yeah, right! Unfortunately, this invasion comes at a time of
beautiful hot weather, often with hardly a breeze stirring, which makes it
really hard to do the most sensible thing: wear long sleeves, long pants,
socks, and, if possible, something on your head.
After coming in from picking
the first beans earlier this week and looking like this
the choice was not so
difficult to make anymore, especially since it cooled down a bit for a couple
of days. I have also relented and am using mosquito repellent, something I
usually try to avoid – who wants to have the smell of a chemical clinging to one's skin, after
all? When the mosquitoes are as thick as right now, however, I tell myself that
what they depose in my body is poison, too, when it comes in such high
concentrations. Now, with all the protective gear in place – including a
kerchief that makes me feel like somebody’s grandmother – I can enjoy being in
the garden again. Maybe my immunity is building up already (one can dream, can't one?)... and there is
always hope that the rains will diminish now, as they so often do in August,
and the next mosquito generation will be much less prolific.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It is close to midnight, and the coyotes have just started to yelp and howl in the distance, prompting Leo to answer with more insistence. For me, it is time for bed: the garden in all its glorious abundance will be waiting for me tomorrow, and I plan to fully enjoy it, now that I have tackled the mosquito problem.
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