Six legs, eight legs, no legs. Winging, crawling, slithering.
Once the temperatures stay above seventy degrees Fahrenheit for more than two days in a row, they start appearing. Add some rain, and we know they're coming in droves.
The first one of the season was a blind snake in the bathroom. They're very tiny--about as big around as a toothpick, and only five inches or so long. Still, watching one squirm around your feet when otherwise indisposed is unsettling. I let my husband handle that one.
Ant beds started reappearing. Brown wasps have been buzzing around the backyard and my mailbox (?). Those crane flies that look like giant mosquitoes, but don't bite, are hovering near our door. We've already had a real mosquito bite or two, apiece. Where's the hydrocortisone cream?
I scrambled in the door this past week to avoid the big brown grasshopper poised on the ledge, looking ready to jump into my work bag. I danced with a small spider in the kitchen (I kinda like them--their webs trap mosquitoes) until it went under the cabinet.
Tonight, the most telling sign that summer is on the way are the june bugs batting up against my kitchen window. Sometimes we find dozens outside at the front and back of the house, clamoring for the lights at night and most often dying in their attempt to reach them. The clickety-clack of their beetle bodies against the glass annoy me to no end, along with the fluttering of a myriad of moths.
To be sure, it's hurry-in-and-close-that-door-behind-you season here in Central Texas. I'm feeling itchy just writing about it, and looking forward to seeing the other winged and crawling creatures--purple martins and geckos--who come and help cull the creepy crawly population.