A Day in the Life
This happened one year during my childhood. My cousin, Coco, and I felt betrayed. The forest we hunted gooseberries in, played in, and generally ran a muck in seemed to have turned into a science fiction story that we didn't like at all.
I'm reminded of this every year when at this time of the year the locusts begin to sing. It wasn't just that there were a few gentle locusts calling. No, it was the year of the seventeen year locusts and these creatures with their orange eyes and wings flew everywhere, leaving their ugly brown skin behind.
I'm also reminded of my Grandfather's words 'autumn begins 6 weeks after the first locusts begin to sing'.
That year was different, and I don't know how accurate that is, but I always think of these things with the first songs of the locusts.