A little less than a month ago, in early May, it finally felt safe to declare Addison County in a state of full-blown spring. All the signs were there: we’d stopped burning wood in the stove at night, we’d cut our getting-out-the-door time in half by omitting hats and gloves and boots (and sometimes even coats!), we’d hung the hammock and put the potted plants back outside, and we’d replaced the screens on the doors and windows. Whenever we returned home from errands or school, our daughters raced from the minivan right into the yard to blow bubbles, climb rocks, chalk the walkway, ride bikes — and even, one glorious afternoon, frolic on the Slip-n-Slide.
For a full week, our family reveled in the renewal of our outdoor paradise. Then, one afternoon, I noticed that small, black things were flying around my head. As I waved them away with my hands, I saw that my daughters were also flailing their arms in front of their faces. And then, I felt that old, familiar pinch; heard that old, familiar buzzzzz — along with my daughters’ shrieks as they raced for the house.
Oh yeah, THAT.