Every summer, about a month before school starts back up in August, there's a sound that I hear that reminds me that summer is winding down.
It's the song of the cicadas.
I never heard of cicadas until I moved to the Midwest about 15 years ago. Suffice it to say, they don't thrive in Los Angeles, where I grew up. (Go to this site, scroll down to the cicada picture, and listen to the sound they make if you aren't familiar with them either.)
Every once in a while the media makes a big deal over a designated "brood" of cicadas, which can be impressive. However, there are cicadas that show up every single year and just hang out in the trees and do their thing.
What they do best is remind me that summer is almost over.
I'm not the only one, either. Mrs. Cardinal and I were walking to the tavern while I was up in Ohio and we heard them. "Ah," she said. "That means there's only about four more weeks of summer."
Still, I enjoy listening to them. It's nice to have a reminder that doesn't beep at me or need batteries.