Dear Farm Journal,

It’s that time of year again. The crickets have infiltrated the farmhouse. Oh, you may think their singing is one of those sweet country sounds, until there are a legion of them chirping their incessant chirp from every corner! They are the ventriloquists of the insect kingdom. My attempts to hunt them down are futile. They either go silent or take cover. Are they in the walls? The floorboards? They can’t be drowned out by putting the fan on high, and if you’re a person who hates repetitive noises (Hi, that’s me), they are your worst nightmare. As I retire to bed early, Rufus asks me if I’m trying to get a jump on the crickets. Ugh!


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