On the news this morning the weather man was warning about the first FROST of the season. It's predicted to happen this weekend on both Saturday and Sunday mornings. While that isn't technically freezing weather it sure is a sign that Old Man Winter is look'n in our direction.
He, Old Man Winter that is, sent a reminder just a couple of days ago with driving rain and wind gusts that bent the trees to the point I thought they would break. It was a sudden event. It seemed the rain and wind happened at the same time, the lightening and thunder followed with a grand display. We had potted plants blow over and even a 2 foot pot blew into the pond (deep end of course). The whole thing was exciting. Mother Nature always has impressed me with her power, be it displayed in the guise of Old Man Winter or when we were heeled over 35 degrees in our 40 foot, 10 ton sailboat (a chaos moment for sure).
Mother Nature also has a few other tricks, one of which is
sticky flies! These are the flies that forget they are supposed to be cautious around creatures as big as me. They land on you without fear of death. It happens every fall in these parts and they drive me nuts. They will land on your leg and you shoo them away and they are back in less than a second. You keep shoo'n them and they keep come'n back. I've had them fly right into my face like they couldn't see me. This never happens in the summer but in the fall they turn stupid and, as we refer to them... sticky.
I've developed a theory about this event. It's wrong but appeals to me. Most every creature imaginable is programmed to reproduce and flies are no exception. So imagine flies fly'n around and suddenly have a eureka moment when they realize it's getting later in the year and these eggs they're pack'n around need to be layed... pronto. They start looking around for dead bodies, rotting garbage or a nice pile of dog-do and become frantic when they find nothing available. If I were a fly I would panic as fall approached if I were carry'n around a load of eggs and no place to lay 'em. So they spy this warm body in the form of, yep... me. Being desperate they rationalize that I'm really a dead body and thus land on me with the intent of laying their eggs. While I may smell a bit I'm certainly not even close to being dead... anyway, in their desperate search for a way to fulfill their natural need to reproduce they morf into Sticky Flies.... maybe I should call them stupid flies.
Just last week I was fix'n to BBQ some ribs. I had the fire going and opened the lid and this stupid sticky fly cruised right into the BBQ and burned to a crisp. While I didn't detect any adverse flavor to the ribs it struck me how depressed they little guys were to actually commit suicide. Burning, what a terrible way to go.
Whoohoo
