Late summer roofsit

    ROOFTOP – Okay, all of you late comers, we’re focusing on the low, slow-moving clouds directly on top of us. Person who comes up with the most recognizable shapes wi--  I got another one. See? That’s a dragon’s head if I ever saw one.

    Well, now it looks more like a steam vac. Oh, and there’s Canada. Hudson Bay looks more like a giant lake, but the rest is definitely our northern neighbor. Well, now it’s Asia. I’m killin’ at this game.

    The clouds are now moving too fast, so I’m going to have to call the game. I won. Did too. Tell you what, while you’re thinking of what to get me for my prize, let’s listen to the sounds of morning. Apparently, the only birds out now are the cawing, gnarkling kind. Gnarkling. Oh, it’s a word. Cross between a gackle and a snark.  

    The songbirds are probably too dry to tweet. I keep putting water out for them, but at night chupacabras drink it up. Or chewbaccas. Something is raiding the water.

Surely you’ve noticed that I’ve all but lost the lawn. The lawn is mine and the flowerbeds are Kay’s. I’d just as soon be responsible for neither. I could’ve saved the lawn with some serious watering, but water has become a too precious commodity. Plus, it makes me have to mow more often. 

    My sister from The Evergreen State posted a comment on Facebook about the summer going by too fast. No, there is not an Apple State. Washington is Evergreen. Anyway, if I lived in the Northwest, I too might pine for the summer. But, since I’m no longer in the classroom, the summer has lost all its allure. Yesterday it dropped down to 96, so I reached for my mackinaw. – No, I don’t know what it is, but the word sounds funny. “Where’s my mackinaw?” Cool.

    And, what a great year this is for lovebugs. Kay had one smashed on the seat of her pants when we were in the store yesterday. I waited to tell her when we got home, ‘cause what is she gonna do about it?

What kind of bug lets you sit on it? They’re useless. The birds won’t even eat ‘em. Their only predators are windshields, hood noses and bumpers. If anything happens to our autos, lovebugs will take over the entire Southeast Region of the U.S.

    Last week, I mentioned the lovebug onslaught to an acquaintance, and he said how grateful he was that they don’t sting people. “Just think, you’d get stung twice with each encounter,” he said. Cup-half-full people irk the daylights outta me. Yeah, and I’m glad they can’t create computer viruses, but there’s no point to that tidbit, either.

    I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lash out. That’s not what we do up here. Well, not all the time. On a happier note, let me report that Kay found out that she’s related to Pocahontas. She subscribed us to auntsister.com, or something like that, and she’s been doing some serious research.

    She’s got a little more fact-checking to do, but there’s a good chance she’s related on her father’s side to Pocahontas, or Rebecca Rolfe as she was known in London.

    I’m sure Kay can authenticate her tie with Pocahontas, and when she does it will really change our relationship. It will mean that I’m married to a Daughter of the Wereowocomoco. That’s Algonquan for “still not in charge of the remote.”

  

Pocahontas

Kay has completed hours of research on my family, but has yet to find me related

Kay at our wedding reception '71

to anyone famous. I can prove that I am four degrees removed from Kevin Bacon, yet in tracing through the Hayter and Pickleseimers, Kay has come up with no one in my tree that you would recognize. 

    Eventually she’ll find that it was Holbrook Hayter back in 1867 who brought the first pair of lovebugs to America. He liked that they didn’t sting.

They not only don’t sting, but they don’t even eat? They don’t. When they’re in the larva stage they eat rotted plants, but after they get their wings they’re too busy mate-finding to eat. – Hey, I’ve researched these vermin.

Our only hope for the irradiation of lovebugs is to train fireants to attack the larvae. Give ‘em a human ankle flavor. And, yes, there is a chance that the two will  breed and we’ll end up with stinging lovebugs. Half-fill your glass with that!

We’re going to have to end on that cheery note. The morning breeze is gone and the shade from the big oak is slipping past the eave. Where has the summer gone? Indeed. Ours will think about leaving some time in late October, during the Washington State apple harvest. I feel your pain, Susan.

end

You can reach Mark at mark@rooftopwriter.com