Mountains and vineyards, burned out steppe where you still can walk onto a stone baba – Neolithic female figure once worshipped by mythic Scythians.  Gentle sandy beaches of Black Sea with its floors still covered with amphorae from Phoenician, Greek and Roman wrecks…

These wrecks lie undisturbed by greedy to artifacts divers.  Smell of wormwood at sunset.  Wailing of turtledoves in green quarters of Yalta and Simferopol.  And grave silence of ancient columns protruding from sandy cliffs.  It is a bit like California, if California would have several millennia of history.  It is almost like California, but no overcrowding, often more a desert, than even a steppe.  It is Crimea, and there is much more to it, but... 


 
 
I have a scary observation to report.  It’s in the #nature.  Our Southern summers were always abundant on insects, even overabundant.  Not now, though – the world seems like become devoid of our little buzzing buddies (and foes).  What had happened to them? 

April, already ninety Fahrenheit, no rain – here, in Bayboro, April is a summer month.  I am looking around and asking myself: where are they?  Where are our ubiquitous mosquitoes, including this funny tiger bunch, where are ladybugs, where are yellow jackets, where are orange wasps and where are my favorite praying mantises, where they all had gone?  I am looking around and I see none, NONE!