By KAREN MADORIN
Residents who get more than 20 inches of rain a year struggle to understand why abundant rain excites folks who live in arid lands. Those who’ve watched crops wither, dust darken the sun, and ponds dry while forecasters spotlight sopping lawns, hydro-planing cars, and raging rivers understand gut-wrenching angst. Observing clouds rise full-to-bursting and then dissipate complicates that stress.
Imagine the celebration when the heavens open and drenching rains plump dehydrated molecules back into productive fields, pastures, and lawns. During extreme drought, who cares that rains ruin weddings, graduations, or 4th of July parties. Celebrants happily dance in the torrents.
Lately, enough moisture has fallen to cause some drivers to reconsider driving through water running across roads. Detouring or returning to high ground has been necessary as folks remember county crews can repair washouts. Area residents revel in creeks flowing bank to bank while ducks and herons enjoy fishing.
Gardens on their last leg two months ago now thrive. Cucumber plants shoot six inches a day up a trellis. Pumpkins and melons rapidly vine to shade out flourishing weeds. Examining the garden first thing each morning reminds me of watching slo-mo video in real time.
During that extended dry spell, hordes of feathered visitors sought bird baths. Resident bunnies and squirrels also stopped to rehydrate several times a day. Killdeer and thrashers raised young nearby because of the water availability. Bees and butterflies perched on shallow bowls to replenish dry cells. However, we didn’t see mosquitoes.
Vacationing along rivers in Wyoming has taught us some towns' fog to manage overwhelming mosquito populations. During our siege of dry years, we didn’t understand the value of this practice. It hadn’t occurred to us that these bloodsuckers could swarm our own yard and town.
Ironically, we’re celebrating our best-ever garden and flower beds, but rains that nurtured them multiplied mosquitoes by the score. We dug out cans of Off and added citronella candles to porch-time activities. I’ve tested essential oils hoping to discourage buzzing little vampires. For each skeeter that scores a touchdown to inject itch-inducing serum, tea tree oil and cortisone cream offer incomplete relief.
We surveyed the yard to eliminate any standing water where mosquitoes could multiply. Despite knowing our area is dry, who knows what puddles exist in nearby fields and parking lots. In addition, we clean bird baths every day to guarantee they aren’t growing skeeters. Despite aggravation with stinging insects, we’d be fools to complain about filled playas channeling water back into a diminishing aquifer.
Prior to recent rains, we didn’t have enough mosquitoes to encourage local swallow or purple martin colonies, but I jealously watched yards where they thrive. Thank goodness, orioles and kingbirds snatch mosquitoes from the sky as we encourage them to practice gluttony. A couple of garden toads contribute to this annihilation effort, making me wish we had 100 more. If rains continue, perhaps we will.
Living on the Great Plains reminds me of riding a teeter-totter. There’s always too much or too little—perfect balance is impossible. Right now, I’m grateful for plentiful rains and will deal with burgeoning mosquito populations. My fly swatter whacks multiple species!