Lord of the flies
We have a nice pergola in our yard. I like to sit in the swing under it and contemplate far away places. Like the Nehalem Bay campground. The trailer is around the corner past the garage so I can’t see it. So my imagination also has to make up for that. Reviewing shorts victories, window repairs, Nehalem Bay, life’s barriers, in that order.
The problem this August are the flies. There have been many here. They make contemplation difficult. People have horses on my road but they are kept half a hectare-plus away. Can’t even munch a cookie on the swing because you are constantly swatting flies away. I have a tendency to bump into things. As a result there are several healing wounds on my shins. It's been bad. The flies, it seemed this evening, were out for blood.
I got so fed up I got up, went inside and came back out with a fly swatter. It was time to take mortal vengeance on my tormentors. I will not let them beat me.
How many flies in a squadron? I don’t know, but I stretched out on the swing with my bare legs exposed, and waited. No flies. What has happened? Do flies think? Do they see and recognize what a fly swatter can do to them?
Finally, one arrived. Must be the squadron leader on recon. I got him. After that, no more flies. Amazing. Back to Nehalem Bay.
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Myron
"A billion here, a billion there...add it all up and before you know it you're talking real money." Everett Dirkson
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