The cicadas have migrated in force from the other side of route 151 to this neighborhood. There are dozens of exoskeletons attached to leaves on the oak tree, but unlike the gypsy moths, no apparent damage, at least not yet.
They fly around like clumsy hummingbirds; some seem to like to sit on the roof. I can hear their individual sounds, something like an “ee-yoh”. Collectively, they are deafening, although not enough to drown out conversations.
A rabbit moved in, and the other evening, it sat in the same spot for a good half hour, even ignoring a cat that had wandered into the yard.