Have I ever mentioned how much I don't like bugs? Have I ever mentioned just how much those golf-ball sized buzzing, flying, kamikaze beetles that come out this time of the summer wig me out? Maybe once or twice, huh?
As we approached the end of June, I thought that perhaps since this had been a spring of strange weather patterns around here, with the crazy record breaking rainfalls over and over and over and over again, that perhaps it would have a favorable impact on reducing the numbers of kamikaze beetles. It had been quiet, and I had not seen a one of them. Yet.
Then, about the third week of June, the Japanese Beetles began to show. I used to wig out over those things, but compared to the Green June Beetles, the Japanese variety are like minuscule gnats. In fact, despite that one weekend that I requested Dear Husband be the one to remove the clothes from the clothesline because they were covered in Japanese Beetles, I haven't noticed them much. I am sure the fact that the Green June Beetles made their annual appearance in droves has something to do with it.
The good news is that Dear Daughter seems rather unaffected by them. She walks right out in the middle of them without hardly flinching. I'm quite proud of her for this, as this is the same little girl who was terrified of gnats and ants not all that long ago.
As for me...well, I don't walk out of the house without my flyswatter or tennis racket. I keep it especially close when I'm mowing through infestations of them by the thousands. These wicked bugs are not only large, but they are horrible navigators. Hearing them repeatedly smacking into the side of the house or hitting the window panes is bad, but getting smacked in the head over and over again by them is thousands of times worse. My only comfort is the cognitive restructuring I work hard at by telling myself repeatedly that my big-ass lawn mower is not only much much bigger than they are, but its buzz is a heck of a lot louder. Truth be told, it's only because the buzz is so much louder on the mower that I can tolerate chopping through the middle of their massive bug lawn parties.
Fourth of July weekend seems to be when they suddenly crawl out of the ground by the millions. Maybe the noise of the fireworks stirs them up from their dirt beds. One day I saw not a single one. The next morning there were millions swarming about the lawn, and I was doing my schizophrenic jig around the yard with my flyswatters and tennis rackets.
For the love of all that is good and holy, THANK GOD the flying, swarming, buzzing portion of their life cycles lasts only a few weeks. If it lasted much longer, I would be packing my belongings and buying a one way ticket to Siberia.