Someone reminded me recently that humor is the best way to diffuse an enemy. I can see that. If someone is hell bent on bringing you down, perhaps a show of genuine indifference to that effort, partnered with a healthy dose of humor is really a sound strategy. I try to remember that when I feel irritation bubbling to the surface because someone said or did something, well, irritating.
But what if your enemy (of the moment) is the mosquito? She doesn't care if I'm furiously slapping at her or laughing at my plight. She just wants to reproduce and I am her ticket to the egg laying enterprise.
Rain came our way last night. I was heaving a sigh of relief: the heaviest storms passed us by. But in the morning, though the air had cooled a few degrees, the bugs assailed me when I stepped outside.
July has a devilish little underbelly: it can throw a tantrum with storms and if that doesn't scare you, it can shake out the mosquitoes.
Hahaha. (Are they diffused yet?)
I venture out a handful of times and it is indeed comical: I retreat waving the electric paddle. If I'm without it, I don't walk, I run for cover.
Still, garden work beckons. You pass a weed, you have to pull it, no? And, too, I must pause to admire the bloomers.
But not for long. Set camera, snap, run.
Breakfast is on the porch. It's beautifully quiet today and the heat isn't so oppressive.
We look out at the lily field before us. It's so rewarding to finally see the blooming faces of the day lilies.
But the bugs are thick and bothersome. (Tomato demands an explanation for the buzz... What can I say...)
In the front flower bed, the clumps of siberian irises are stunning.
There: I did an inspection. I pulled some weeds. That's it. I am so done with the outdoors for today. (Ed swears it will be better tomorrow.)
In the late afternoon, my older girl and her two kids come over, giving the dad a much needed rest.
Books, art...
... with a perpetually interested little Sparrow, waiting for his moment to join in the fun.
(Now can we play?)
(Sure!)
By dinner time, its cool enough to eat on the porch. One screen keeps us calm, happy, safe from the bandits of the summer months.
(Despite the lateness of the hour, Snowdrop decides the wading pool is a perfect post dinner dessert. Yes, she is really into doing things for herself. And honestly, who can tell if the swimsuit would look any better with the bow in the back!)
Sparrow dozes. The fireflies are about to come out.
So perfect, until you step outside and remember that there are platoons of armed bandits waiting for you.
Still, six months from now, I'll only remember the first two words of that sentences. And that's the way it should be. Perfect days and nights can be had even if all the pieces aren't quite in all the right places. We had so many beautiful moments on this first day of July. Were there bugs? Yes, I suppose so. How tedious! How (almost) irrelevant!
But what if your enemy (of the moment) is the mosquito? She doesn't care if I'm furiously slapping at her or laughing at my plight. She just wants to reproduce and I am her ticket to the egg laying enterprise.
Rain came our way last night. I was heaving a sigh of relief: the heaviest storms passed us by. But in the morning, though the air had cooled a few degrees, the bugs assailed me when I stepped outside.
July has a devilish little underbelly: it can throw a tantrum with storms and if that doesn't scare you, it can shake out the mosquitoes.
Hahaha. (Are they diffused yet?)
I venture out a handful of times and it is indeed comical: I retreat waving the electric paddle. If I'm without it, I don't walk, I run for cover.
Still, garden work beckons. You pass a weed, you have to pull it, no? And, too, I must pause to admire the bloomers.
But not for long. Set camera, snap, run.
Breakfast is on the porch. It's beautifully quiet today and the heat isn't so oppressive.
We look out at the lily field before us. It's so rewarding to finally see the blooming faces of the day lilies.
But the bugs are thick and bothersome. (Tomato demands an explanation for the buzz... What can I say...)
In the front flower bed, the clumps of siberian irises are stunning.
There: I did an inspection. I pulled some weeds. That's it. I am so done with the outdoors for today. (Ed swears it will be better tomorrow.)
In the late afternoon, my older girl and her two kids come over, giving the dad a much needed rest.
Books, art...
... with a perpetually interested little Sparrow, waiting for his moment to join in the fun.
(Now can we play?)
(Sure!)
By dinner time, its cool enough to eat on the porch. One screen keeps us calm, happy, safe from the bandits of the summer months.
(Despite the lateness of the hour, Snowdrop decides the wading pool is a perfect post dinner dessert. Yes, she is really into doing things for herself. And honestly, who can tell if the swimsuit would look any better with the bow in the back!)
Sparrow dozes. The fireflies are about to come out.
So perfect, until you step outside and remember that there are platoons of armed bandits waiting for you.
Still, six months from now, I'll only remember the first two words of that sentences. And that's the way it should be. Perfect days and nights can be had even if all the pieces aren't quite in all the right places. We had so many beautiful moments on this first day of July. Were there bugs? Yes, I suppose so. How tedious! How (almost) irrelevant!
