Peggy Dover

Never in my wildest nightmares did I think I would be straining the gate for a 99-degree day — that 99 degrees would sound like a refreshing mountain stream following a week in Death Valley.

OK, I exaggerate. It was 126 in Death Valley on Tuesday, but life pulses with relativity. I’ve gleaned from more than one source that Medford’s average high for this time in July is 89 or 90. I’m only asking for an average high here.

Every year I determine not to whine about the inevitable heat. I mean, I’m comfortable in an air-conditioned home, but the thermostat on my whine-o-meter is broken, so it sounds off at will. Like if I have to go anywhere after noon, which I take great pains to avoid.

Yesterday morning, with my eye on the thermometer, I high-tailed it to my local Ace Hardware to purchase a fly trap. Flies and black widow spiders love heat. The nice clerk directed me toward the rear of the store where I found myself agog at a colorful cornucopia of every kind of critter life-ending device imaginable. I located the fly croaking section and began examining the multitude of choices. Then, as if on cue, a fly flew up and landed on one of the boxes. Was it a sign? Or was it a sort of Brer Fly trick, whose intention was to draw my attention to a trap from which he knew he could extricate himself. He was born and raised in that fly trap!

One trap warned that it was strong enough to latch onto small birds and beneficial insects and that there was no guarantee. The visual was too much. I opted for a simple sticky tube with the name brand of Stick-a-Fly. Not Stick-it-to-a-Fly. But, Stick-a-Fly. The box showed three real flies as target examples. There was a lot of writing on the box to sell me on the idea, but it was easy enough to use. Just remove tube from box and set where you think flies are likely to fly into it. I probably could have smeared syrup on an empty paper towel holder and gotten the same result. The death tube sits inside a beige ’60s-style plastic decorator holder. The tube itself is decorated with what appear to be flies in order to interest same. As the box instructs, “Testing shows that houseflies are attracted to other houseflies (sounds logical) therefore, STICK-A-FLY Fly Trap becomes even more effective after a few flies have been caught.” I began making human comparisons and waxed philosophical.

Now, one would think that if other flies saw their comrades struggling to break loose, it would have the opposite effect. But, come to find out, a fly’s brain is smaller than a poppy seed. How much can one expect in the way of reason?

I watched as a couple of poor saps landed on the tube and struggled to free themselves and instantly felt guilt pangs — until I remembered that Beelzebub is referred to as the Lord of the Flies, and I was okay. I wondered what it was thinking. Whatever the thoughts, they were fleeting. Did its 15- to 30-day lifespan flash before all five eyes? Sort of like an IMAX experience, I imagine.

Last time I had the gall to survey the carnage, there were about seven adults, one juvenile (gulp), a miller, and several gnats stuck to their doom.

Tomorrow, I will have a new furnace/AC installed. When the “comfort specialist” presented me with the estimate, I told him I wasn’t interested in buying the company, just one unit. Anyone who has priced these items lately understands why my jaw fell to the floor, resting on the old carpet I keep hoping to replace. But the dinosaur furnace is twenty years old and has a had a few repairs. At least I won’t lie awake at night worrying about it conking out every time the mercury hits 112 or dips to 10 degrees on a frosty winter night. We will have those again, and I’ll probably whine, though now it’s nice to imagine. That and eat popsicles.

I joke, but there are those who take on flames and intense heat at the source. May God bless our firefighters and give them strength and safety to meet each day and night.