Worms Worms Everywhere

April Showers have finally found their way to Winnipeg (a month late) and, quite frankly, I'm enjoying the lush greens and clean sidewalks. The leaves are finally filled in and large deciduous tree-lined boulevards and quiet neighbourhood streets are shaded by the overlapping foliage. It's really a lovely time of the year. The temperature has still remained balmy since I arrived, although the long-range weather forecast is completely unreliable. And the mosquitoes haven't attacked in full force yet. In fact, I've only seen two since I arrived, and haven't been bitten once. I don't know what everyone was warning me about. Winnipeg the evil? Far from it!

But let me warn you about the worms.

Sweet Mother. This year, the ' Cankerworms' as they're called have amassed into a formidable foliage feasting frenzy. They eat deciduous tree leaves, leaving entire canopy's tattered. This not only makes trees susceptible to disease, but looks pretty darned ugly. The worst part about Cankerworms is the silk spinning abilities they've developed to drop out of danger and 'hang out' in a hoard of tangled web and worminess underneath tree limbs. Imagine* yourself enjoying a walk outside after a light rain. The air smells fresh, and you're jamming to the latest podcast downloaded to your iPod. Without warning, you walk through an invisibly icky web of disgustingess. You panic because you believe it to be a spider's web, and in thrashing at your face you knock the ear buds out of your ears and into a puddle. You look at your hands and notice a greenly smear across your fingertips. You quickly realize that you have just smeared approximately 22 caterpillars across your face and the sleeves of your nice new sweater. You pivot around and quickly trot back to the house. A worm is dangerously close to your earhole. A worm is on your iPod. A worm is on the back of your hand. The wind shifts, and you find yourself in another tangled web. You curse yourself for taking a shortcut across the front yard: underneath the oak tree with it's dastardly low hanging branches. You flail your arms in a twin turbine motion out in front of your body and flee to the front door. Exhausted, you change all your clothes, burn them, and vow never to venture outside ever again.

Yes...I am enjoying myself in Winnipeg.