The cicadas are really horrible. At first it was fun to joke around about them, but now I’m over it. They’re flying around now, and in certain areas of town you can’t look in any direction without seeing several flit around. I tried to count how many I saw while stopped at a stoplight, and I couldn’t keep up. They’re everywhere– and they seem to enjoy running into people. I’m sure I look ridiculous, darting around and walking quickly from one building to the next, but I just can’t stand the things. Luckily they’re big enough that you can see them from far away and so it’s easier to dart around and miss them. But at the same time, there are so dang many of them, they’re impossible to avoid completely.
The sidewalks that have been covered with their shells for the last week or two, are now covered with them, dead and alive. We were at the park on Saturday and noticed a few were perched on the picnic table where we were sitting. Then one crawled into my friend Mary’s flip flop, and as we looked down at the grass around us, we realized the grass was full of them. They were everywhere– crawling around drunkenly through the green grass. Then Maria pointed out the base of the large tree next to us — and all around it was a carpet of shells.
And they’re really, really loud. Around mid-afternoon, they’re so loud you can barely hear normal conversation while standing outside.
Only a few more weeks. I’m not sure how much more I can stand.