In praise of buzzing wings

Recently, while dipping my feet into a local lake near Poznań, I was wondering how it was possible that summer is upon us once again. That dreary period between October and April always seems to last forever, when the scrawny clumps of grass struggling up between uneven paving stones even seem to laugh in my face. Honestly! At least, that is, until the sudden arrival of the first wave of real, indisputably hot weather. And no, I’m not going to utter a single word about how long it’s been since it last rained. Nor am I going to moan about the time early on Saturday mornings they start mowing the lawns down to matchstick length right in front of my block. Some prefer scorched yellow stubble to abundantly lush greenery – but I honestly don’t care. The first dog walks of the day now take place a little earlier than in the winter, or at least, so I’ve heard – as I don’t have a dog for the reason that I don’t want to get up at the crack of da