You've heard of the "travel bug" which bites people with his venom of adventure, leaving the bitten with side-effects of a taste for exotic food, longing for sandy toes or snowy eyelashes, a penchant for living out of a suitcase and viewing glorious vistas out of hotel windows or tent-flaps. Perhaps you've been bitten by the "baby bug" which causes its victims to swoon for the scent of talcum powder, the softness of receiving blankets, and the gentle gurgle of a tiny, bubbly smile.
Around our parts these days, we've been stung by a gentler beast, one who lazily waited out the long, sometimes hot sometimes chilly, months of a Michigan spring. She laid in wait through chilly April evenings and misty May mornings. This bug slowly nibbled our ears until all we could hear was the distant call of water birds and jet-boats. She tugged our toes until they would not be satisfied in socks and shoes and craved water, sand, or bright foam flip-flops instead. Once bitten, we were giddy with gooseflesh when faced with the anticipation of taking a plunge off a wood plank dock into refreshing cool-warm water, creating more little pleasure bumps on our limbs! We now salivate like Pavlovs dog when we smell a campfire and we race to the basket holding the treasured chocolate, grahams, and spongy soft marshmallows. Our cravings are satisfied only with long days of sun and water and sand and iced tea or lemonade. We have been bitten by a powerful creature and there seems to be only one remedy: true, uninhibited frolic. So, rather than seeking an antidote (even though one tried to sneak into the house in the form of a - gasp - Back to School catalog, which we promptly tossed! The nerve!!!), we revel in our infection. We rejoice in our affliction. We've been bitten by the June Bug and we are loving every minute of it!
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