Can we talk about Black Flies for a minute? I didn’t grow up with Black Flies. I was blissfully unaware. I had heard of them, of course and laughed at the Canadian folk song, but no first-hand experience. Let me tell you, it is all-true!
I always forget that at this time of year up here on the mountain we are infested. It only lasts for a few weeks, thank heavens, but it is dreadful. Oddly, they do not seem to bite the neighbors—only me. Isn’t that swell? They are tiny, well, black flies. They seem to prefer ankles and elbows. They can bore through clothing. They bite through jeans. They get in your hair and nibble on your scalp. If that is not bad enough, I swell up. Yup, allergic. Grrrreat. When I went to Alaska, fearing the worst, I took all kinds of bug spray, antihistamine, even a bug net. No need. I come back to the east and what do I find? Black Flies. Sigh.
Now, I am well aware of the consequences and (after the first bite) take precautions. But there always seems to be some sliver of skin sticking out and they hone right in on it. Urgh. As I write this, my right foot and ankle has 4 bites, and there are 4 on one arm 2 on my side and several in my scalp. Thank Heavens for Benedryl.
I am gardening in heavy pants and a sweatshirt. It was 94 yesterday. I don’t want to kill every living thing on the property with pesticide, so I muddle through. It will be done soon. It will be done soon. I have to keep telling myself that as I gear up to battle nature. So, if you have Black Flies in your neck of the woods, you have my sympathy. If you don’t, want some of mine?????