ATTACK OF THE HARMONIA AXYRIDIS

It was a helluva long, painful spring and summer here in my Tennessee wilderness mountain abode.

They are technically extremely large and impressive hills, but it sounds much more dramatic and romantically intriguing to call them mountains.

After five years of existing in the midst of Mother Nature's appealing, yet appalling embrace, I've learned to tolerate (endure?) all of the incredibly annoying crap that goes with it. 

I've had squirrels in my roof, 'possums under the house, skunks in the garage. I've had a snake in my bedroom and two 'possums inside the house.  

Nests of mice have taken up residence in my desk drawers and clothes drawers. I found a live mouse sleeping in the washing machine. 

I won't mention the wasps, carpenter bees, hornets, horseflies, gnats, fruit flies, drain flies, and stink bugs that plagued and tortured me mercilessly from April through September.

I was delighted when the annual influx of Asian beetles didn't make their usual appearance in mid-October.

Asian beetles
Lady beetles
Harlequins
Harmonia Axyridis

Those are the names by which the little bastards are known. They resemble ladybugs but are more orange-brown than red in color. And they're extremely aggressive.  

When November arrived - unusually cold and inclement - I  was absolutely positive that the dreaded Lady Asians had cancelled their Tennessee invasion this year.

The Big Kahuna God of Nature must have awakened and noticed my joy.

Yesterday (Wednesday) was fairly mild. A few annoying summer bugs lethargically appeared but I didn't think much of it - - - until I suddenly started finding robust Asian beetles in the house. Lots of them.   

It couldn't be, I kept telling myself - not in November!

When I cautiously opened the front door and stepped out on the porch, the plagues of Egypt descended upon me.

Thousands - and I mean thousands - of Asian beetles were swarming everywhere! They covered the porch, the side of the house, the windows - and dense armies of them were zooming through the air.

Like an idiot, I had gone outside in my underwear (hell, no one is around here to see me but Bigfoot).
The beetles immediately descended upon me - hundreds of them - and that's when I discovered they BITE! 

I had to flee back into the house. I was covered with beetles and my legs were bitten dozens and dozens of times in mere seconds.

Not knowing what to do, I grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol and doused my legs. Then I began combing beetles out of my hair.  

To make a long story short (which at this point is a complete impossibility) today (Thursday) is rainy and chilly. A hard frost is expected tonight.  The influx of Asian beetles has diminished - although I found several in my bed last night.

Pictures, anyone?  

 

Despite the fact that my windows are all tightly shut, the Asian beetles still manage to get in. This was my bedroom window last night.

Of course, Bosco had to get in on the action. I quickly cleaned up the beetles before he could eat any.

Beetles on the window yesterday...

And the front door - -
(this is after I used bug spray)  

 It's nearly impossible to see in this photo, but loads of beetles are swarming through the air.

Is there an end to this tale of woe?

Only if the frost kills the Asian invaders tonight.   

BIG BAD BITCH OF A SUMMER

This summer is a huge bitch. And it doesn't want to end.

I've lived in Southern California and West Texas - - which means I'm acquainted with agonizing six-month summers. 

When I came to the Tennessee wilderness I was delighted to discover summers that are brief and relatively mild. At least the first three were.

This fourth summer is a combination of the Twilight Zone, Wild Kingdom, and Death Valley Days.

I've endured more misery, horror, and pathos than one humble blog could maintain.

(What exactly is pathos? I threw it in for literary enhancement)

It hasn't rained in three days, which - in this area - probably means a serious drought.
The "brush" on my property has grown so tall from the continuous rain that it exceeds my six-foot-one height and impedes any attempt to drive out (in a vehicle).

I no longer give a rat's royal ass about trying to maintain it.

 My front "yard"

This is the shallow part

Of course, the tall brush attracts critters - which is probably why I had a snake in the house last week (see previous post).

I'm still completely unnerved over that adventure. I keep looking everywhere - thinking I'll find another humongous serpent.

I have squirrels in the roof and 'possums under the house. The critter invasion permanently expels the concept of all those cutsie Disney animal films that I was indoctrinated with as a child.

I'm ready to load my shotgun and annihilate Bambi. 

Did I mention that there was a small bat (yes, bat!) hovering around the kitchen window tonight?

I was making nachos at midnight (one of the advantages of living alone).

Suddenly there was persistent banging on the window.

 I was stunned to see a fluttering bat looking in at me. 

My first thought was Dracula!

My second thought was - he might break the glass.

I pulled down the blinds and turned out the bright light.

Bugs, anyone?

I'm still plagued with gnats (see two previous posts) and when they finally disappear, the Asian beetles will arrive (no, I'm not jesting). Happens every year.

My latest wasp sting (I've now had four this summer) is healing nicely but still itches.
The wasps are building nests everywhere and their aggression knows no bounds. I eliminated three nests this week and noticed a new one being constructed near one of my windows.

Four wasps got in the house yesterday and I was running around in my Fruit of the Looms armed with a gallon (yes, gallon) of bug spray. I managed to kill two of them.

Late last night (about 4:00 a.m.) I was in bed reading, naked (too damn hot to wear clothes), when a wasp came out of nowhere. It zoomed around the reading lamp.
I jumped out of bed and raced around the room, stark naked and armed with a fly swat
(don't try to visualize this - it's immensely unappealing).
Never did find the wasp.

Did I mention the intense heat?
It's been hotter than a tamale in Hades.
The header photo of my cat Kitzee (also known as Scratch) attests to the fact.

Bosco stays in low, cool places, but still enjoys basking near the sun.

JOY IN THE WILDERNESS

 

So, how has my life been going lately?

Let's put it this way: the unmitigated   joy of living in the wilderness is so intense that I usually keep the blissful details to myself - in order not to alarm anyone. 

To fully describe my August adventures (so far) would be excruciatingly long, so I'll start with something simple and uncomplicated - - like the gnats.

Every August, for the four long years that I've lived here, there has been a mercilessly unceasing influx of gnats. I'm not talking a few gnats for a few days. I'm talking one of the plagues of Egypt.

The gnats completely and thoroughly infiltrate the house and there's no way to stop them. They descend upon everything - food, trash cans, sinks, tables, countertops - they thrive in the cat's food and litter boxes. 

To make matters worse, they are EXTREMELY aggressive - attacking my face, racing up my nose, trying to get into my mouth.
It's nearly impossible to eat a meal. I have to keep the food covered while I'm trying to take a bite. And I keep a small fan on the table in the feeble hope of blowing them away.

I left a cantaloupe on the kitchen counter overnight and they descended upon it with the unholy enthusiasm of Aesop's feast.
 It was the only analogy I could think of.

They scurry along the pages of books while I'm reading in bed, and if I happen to fall asleep they buzz in my ears - rudely interrupting erotic dreams.

Their unrelenting presence and indefatigable persistence is enough to make a grown man cry. I speak from experience.

As I'm writing this post, they're playing hopscotch on the computer keys and laughing at the table fan that I have on to dissuade them.

A frantic search on the Internet revealed one ploy to fight back: vinegar.
A bowl of vinegar (with a few added drops of dishwashing liquid) attracts them like flies on a cow pie. Or Democrats on a fake collusion. Sorry - I couldn't resist.

I usually place a bowl of vinegar in (nearly) every room. It doesn't completely alleviate the agony of the gnats, but it does decrease the attendance at their Bacchanalia.

 This is a bowl of vinegar (an old sherbet container) that I had out for only an hour, and it attracted scores of gnats.

I'm going to divide this post into two parts because it's getting kinda long.

Brace yourselves, boys and girls.
The gnats are going to look like a ride at Disneyland, compared to the next horrifying tale I'm going to tell you.

You won't believe what happened to me these past few days.
Stay tuned for the dramatic (hair-raising) conclusion. Coming soon!