They're everywhere, they're everywhere. The cicadas are what I'm talking about. Bill's had it with them. He can't stand them lighting on him anymore. Me, on the other hand...

I was out on the porch stringing up a patriotic banner and they were buzzing all around me and landing on me. Once they're on you, they are like velcro to try to pry off. Especially when they are in your hair. Patiently, I extracted each one and set them on their way. I rescued one from a pot full of water. We had another big rain storm last night.

Speaking of which. We watched a movie till 11:50 p.m. last night and, as our usual habit, turned to the weather channel before going to bed. On the screen there was this long angry red line stretching from mid-Indiana to mid-Kentucky. Ohio is right in between those two states. Two prime time channels had interrupted their regular programming to give second-by-second narrative of what was happening with these storms. Hoo boy, I said to Bill, we're in for it this time. There were Severe Thunderstorm Watches, Severe Thunderstorm Warnings, and Tornado Watches going on in many counties.

"So, you want to stay up for this?" I asked Bill. It was coming quickly. Would be in our town in about 40 minutes. He never did answer me but staying glued to the TV was a good sign that we were staying up. The weatherman kept going over where there were wind shears and where there were high winds and where there was a probability of hail, and we were right in line for one of those cells that had it all. They were even advising people to go to their basements to ride out the storm because they were expecting wind damage and large hail--1/2 an inch to 2 inches in diameter. So, we waited and watched the angry red weather line creep closer and closer. They tried to mix it up by showing the live weather cam on top their building where you really couldn't see much happening except some flickers of light in the dark sky. They kept going on and on with what times it would hit selected cities, closeups of the angry red line so that all you could see was one big angry red spot on the screen, and then back to the live weather cam still not showing much. We stayed mesmerized.

Finally, we heard thunder in the distance and the red line was verging right on the name of our town on the map. I got up to brush my teeth and pee before the storm hit. Bill had secured a flashlight and I knew where candles were. I wasn't going to rouse the Muckheads until I heard tornado sirens going off or until I saw that dead tree up by the house bending dangerously over.

Well, none of that happened. The rain came, poured actually, and some lightning lit up the sky here and there, and some thunder rumbled mildly, and while I was brushing my teeth it was all over except for some more rain. That's always the way, isn't it? We looked at each other and knew that we should have just gone to bed an hour ago.

Back to the cicadas. I am obsessed with them. There are so many of them flying around that it is mind boggling. And they are so clumsy. When they land, they'll fall on their back more often than not. Then they lie there fluttering their wings struggling to right themselves. They will die of exhaustion trying to do this. Once a day, I'll go down to the patio and get them back up and flying. Reaching down, all I have to do is put my finger close to their flailing legs and they attach themselves like a vacuum. It's kinda hard to pull them off my finger. I guess they're so grateful to have something to hang onto finally so they literally hang on for dear life. There might be five or six of them at a time riding on my fingers to safety. I put them on a little tree next to the patio so they can rest and regain their strength. There are so many out there to rescue like this that if I really think about it, it makes me sad and crazy. Their dead bodies are strewn all over parking lot pavements and roads. It's just massive. On average, there can be 1.5 million per acre of these little creatures. We have half an acre so I've got .75 million to take care of.

I know, I know. They are just dumb insects. But I can't resist saving a life no matter how tiny and dumb.

It's a gorgeous day out there in our neck of the woods. Have a good Memorial Day.