This being my 43rd summer as a resident of northern Minnesota, I feel I have at last earned the right and perhaps the obligation to reveal the secret that has enabled me to survive said three-and-forty onslaughts by the insects.
The secret (shared by surprisingly few) is a six-letter word that starts with "s" and ends with "creen." A procurement officer in the U.S. Army would probably define it as a "passive, non-pollutive, non-toxic, permanently installed, low-maintenance, lightweight, anti-airborne-insect-invasion device."
He might, in the interest of accuracy, further state that this device is surpassingly effective when employed by adult non-combatants, but that its security can in fact be breached by the presence of numerous small children intent on repeated testing of the hinged portion of the enclosure known as the "door."
But even children can be trained or sent to live with grandparents for the summer, and once the door is allowed to stay shut after sundown, the screened area permits the summer citizen to actually enjoy night life.
Our forebears understood this kind of thing, and generally equipped their homes with screened porches. But somewhere down the line things went awry, and few contemporary houses provide such blessed comfort for their inhabitants.
Instead, the fashion has become the deck, which during daylight hours affords delight, but which turns into a place of torment once the shadows fall.
I have sat on decks in the twilight and actually wished that winter would return, so great was my discomfort. And don't try to tell me that bug-zappers really work. Be honest: bug-zappers are for the jaded joy of hearing the little hummers get crisped-but they do not materially reduce the swarming population.
The only policy that works is one of insect/human apartheid. And that's where the screen comes in.
At our house, the screened porch isn't really a porch, but a separate room, attached to the house by a screened corridor. This allows us to go in and out of the house without compromising our protection.
And our screened area is big enough (12 by 16 feet) to include a table and chairs for eating, a grill for cooking hamburgers and brats, a bench and several lawn chairs for lounging, and with a bit of rearrangement and the use of folding cots, room for summer sleeping. Some years ago we also added a small wood-burning fireplace, which adds to our comfort in early spring and late fall.
As you might expect, we pretty much live in the place all summer long. And the wonderful part is that it cost very little to build. No windows, no insulation, no wiring, no plumbing, no interior finish except paint.
And, in this era of ever-rising energy costs, no air-conditioning.
Each evening when the sun goes down, we migrate out to spend some time surrounded by stars and the evening antics of bats and tree frogs and fireflies, secure in the knowledge that the hordes of droning insects will look elsewhere for their after-dinner snacks.
Columnist Craig Nagel recently published a collection of past Cracker Barrel articles in book form titled "A Place Called Home," and will be reading from the book at the Crosslake Library from 6:30 to 8 p.m. Tuesday, July 8.
-Copyright 2008 by Craig Nagel
