Get out the Daisy Red Ryder boys, they are upon us.
Almost makes me wish I was there
Almost...
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Not me....
Last time I heard them, was in Virginia prior to 1981, when we moved to Colorado. They were so loud you could not sleep without earplugs. Haven't heard 'em since and have no desire to hear 'em ever again.
Mowing around them can be a real adventure
Think Kamikazi attack for those of you who haven't experienced it.
Takes me back . . .
. . . to my childhood, before air-conditioning, when we'd sit out on the porch in the evening to (hopefully) cool down and listen to the cicada chorus. To me, and many folks my age, it's the sound of summer.
K
As Marshall McCloud might say...
'There ya go.'
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Mowing around them can be a real adventure
I fired up a chainsaw one afternoon during the height of a cicada invasion, to cut the top off of a cedar post. Was almost choked and blinded by the damm things before I could get the cut made. They must have thought that little McCulloch chainsaw was the Raquel Welch of the cicada world.