THE BUGS ARE BACK IN TOWN (3/06)

Well, I guess it's officially spring. Tuesday at work I stuck my hand in a pot full of fire ants (not intentionally), and Wednesday I was bitten by a spider. It was small and brown and it hurt like a son-of-a-gun, but luckily my flesh hasn't begun to rot. Instead, it just made a whelp that stretched from my armpit to my elbow, and it stung, itched and ached like a giant bruise, all at the same time. John kept trying to get me to go to the doctor, but I looked up spider bites on the internet, and discovered that actually, there is no treatment for them - unless you get the kind that blisters up, ruptures and rots, in which case they will give you antibiotics for the infection. Glad that didn't happen.

Here in the lower half of Texas, we don't get near as excited about the coming of spring as we do about fall. Unlike the rest of the country, we've spent a very pleasant winter out of doors, with most days in the sixties, or even seventies, so we are not exactly suffering from cabin fever. If we are chomping at the bit to get busy in the garden, it's only because we know that it's just a matter of weeks before temperatures approach triple digits, and dragging our butts out of these air-conditioned houses will get much more difficult. Also, we need to take advantage of the spring rains, as you never know when a summer drought will set in, or how long it will last. Come to think of it, the one from last summer still hasn't ended yet. This time last year, our creek was rushing over it's dams and spilling onto the road, but by summer it had dried to a trickle, and it has been like that ever since.

As I mentioned earlier, the surest sign that spring has sprung, is that the bugs are back in town. Haven't seen hide nor hair of a scorpion all winter, and have become rather lax about shaking out my shoes before I put them on. The ants and spider were a warning that it's time to snap to attention. Next thing you know, we will be driving through clouds of love-bugs as we go to and from Wimberley. I hate those blasted things. They splat all over your car and petrify within seconds. Trying to use your wipers just smears the gut-cement around, making it even worse. After they die down, it will be time for the attack of the killer mosquitoes, and so it goes... On the plus side, we usually have fabulous drifts of wildflowers all along the roadsides throughout the Hill Country this time of year. Unfortunately, due to our lack of rain this winter, most of the seeds didn't germinate. Can you believe it? That five-hour fiasco, uhm, I mean fun-filled, trip to Wildseed Farms in Fredericksburg, was all for nought?