August

Issue 35

     "Joel, I know that has to be a sight to behold, and we may be able to squeeze it in somewhere, but I'm not sure it's exactly front page material," I was saying in my most placating tone.  "I mean, we are south of the gnat line, you know."  The gnat line was an imaginary boundary dividing Georgia into northern and southern halves, accounting for why the southern half experienced so many more gnats than the northern.

    By the tone of his voice, I could tell that Joel would have gladly reached through the phone line to grab me by the shoulders and shake me if he could have.  "Boy, I've lived here my whole life, and I swear I ain't never seen anything like this before!  I've got more gnats out there right this second than what I generally see in a week!"

     I really didn't want to drive out to his farm, but I was resigning myself to Joel not giving me any peace unless I did so.  Absently scribbling notes on my pad, I asked, "So where did all these gnats come from?"

     "See, that's the craziest thing of all.  The came straight out of the dust of the ground!  I swear, the dust was becoming gnats!"