Cottage Day 6: Road/ Deerflies
I expected there would be a lot of bugs squatting at the cottage. Ants in the food, the walls, the bed, the grass. Mosquitoes in the air, my hair, my ears, my clothes. Insects crawling all over the damn place, biting my skin, buzzing in my face, no respect or regard for boundaries or one’s preference to, you know, not be swarmed day and night. But, aside from the things that paint trails across leaves and whatever it was that bit the heck out of my left shin in the night, the bug population is mighty low.
Except for on the road.
You’d think meeting a black bear on the road would have been lesson enough: city freaks who require constant activity like sharks who will die if they quit moving, please stay in your cottage. Do not hike. Do not roam. Do not invent ways to fill your days. Instead, fucking relax, ok?
Actually, we did pretty good at the relaxing thing. But, my arms and legs were feeling sluggish and tight. And, we were out of raspberries! So, a morning stroll. Gravel crunched and cicadas strummed and the sun shone down, and a light breeze blew. It was all rather idyllic and dreamy, the sort of forest walk that sounds stupid to write about because it’s too twee to take seriously. Too robust, too healthy, too perfect.
There, that’s more like it. Back to the cottage again.