Yikes. Clouds of locusts billowed up from the side of the road as the wind wave from our car disturbed them on the way to Swan Hills. Clouds, I tell you. It was like driving into a blizzard, only hearing every snowflake hit the car with a hard pop. And messy! It was hard to judge when to turn on the windshield wipers just in case, you know, you caught some more and smeared them around to create a bigger mess than before.
Pressure washer time. When we arrived at our hosts' home the men had to clean inch-thick locust sludge from the front.
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