« Government cheese | Main | A fine ass-ignment »
Wrath of chiggers
June 08, 2007Michael Hines' story in the newspaper says there's not a local chigger problem, according to the experts.
Then what do you call this?

It's a chigger/fire ant/venomous critter mess across my body right now.
But it's my own fault. Really.
I should have known better than to step on that grave.
I'm not superstitious, but I'm respectful.
I've wandered through numerous country cemeteries, always careful to avoid Paw's headstone and Maw's grave marker.
But this time, the grass was really tall. The ground was wet and my heels were sinking.
But, but, but.
My excuses don't matter now. I stepped on top of two graves in the Orth Cemetery, and have now incurred the Wrath of Orth.
***
Photographer Jason Palmer and I were traipsing around Young County in the tiny community of Orth last Thursday.
The Gibbs Farm, a 116-year-old farm located between Olney and Newcastle, was recently named to the Family Land Heritage Program by the Texas Department of Agriculture.
The program recognizes farms and ranches that have been continuously operated by the same family for 100 years or more.
Martha Gibbs and her three sons -- Claude, Chuck and Bruce -- were showing Jason and I around their place.
The old Orth Cemetery is located on the Gibbs property, so they drove us over to it. Many of their ancestors are buried there.
The entire fenced off cemetery is basically one big grave, they said. The railroad used to run right by the cemetery in the early 20th century. If someone died on the train, people would hop off, bury the dead, and get back on the train.
Numerous Orth residents were also buried in the small plot.
Many of the graves are unmarked; other headstones have sunk deep into the ground.
But not two graves.
Not two particular graves marked, in capital letters, WATERS. Those two graves were distinctly visible. So visible, in fact, that I thought about stepping on them. Temporarily and with utmost delicacy, of course.
It was a hot day. I was tired. The cemetery was extremely overgrown, the grass knee high.
I had many rational excuses.
And so I put my left foot on one stone -- yes, that's a HEAD stone, to be exact -- and my right foot on another as I made my way through the cemetery to the Gibbs section.
I thought, naively, that everything was going to be alright. But as I stood on the Waters grave, I felt the sting of ants crawling on my foot.
Okay, I could deal with a few ant bites.
We got back to the pick-up to drive back to the Gibbs' house.
The tires spun in the mud, the truck halted in its tracks. (Luckily, Chuck Gibbs was at the house and came and pulled us out with a tractor and a chain.)
These are not signs, I told myself. Two ant bites and a stuck truck do not equal being smote by God.
And so the Heavens made their point more clearly.
Friday morning I woke up with not two but about 30 bites.
I had forgotten one of the cardinal rules of country living.
Tall grass + recent rains = chigger festival.
Oh, and what about those ants that breathe fire?
Orth 1, Lara 0.
I headed to our family farm in Paducah Friday after work, hoping that distance would relieve me of my curse.
Both Friday and Saturday night, the storms knocked out the power in the house, so I got no sleep as I waited on the electric company guys get the lights back on.
Sunday, I went for a hike with the dog and came one foot away from stepping on a rattlesnake.
By Monday, my body was an inferno, the pain continuing to grow. Bites of various sizes, shapes and itches up and down both legs. Some were hardened scabs. Some were fire-red bumps. Several were pus-filled lumps and others were oozing blisters.
I finally went to the doctor Tuesday. He couldn't tell me exact what all had bitten me, a menagerie of critters that "went to town" on my sinner flesh, no doubt.
I'm on an anti-biotic and am covered in a salve to stop the itching.
But I still feel like I owe the Heavens, and especially the community of Orth, some kind of penance.
There's a chance some of the now almost dime-size blisters might scar.
Serves me right.
Maybe, as Michael wrote, there's not a chigger problem.
Maybe it's just my grave issues.
Posted by Lara Richards at 08:14 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)
