When my parents lived in Sugar Land, they had a pool in their back yard. During the summer, the June bugs (a brown scrabbly beetle in that part of the country; around here, some people call Japanese beetles, the iridescent green things, June Bugs. Thus my need to specify) arrived in late May and stayed well past July. They especially liked to drink from the pool, and there were eddies of them in becalmed corners. One evening when I was swimming, one got a bit friendly. Before I finally managed to get rid of it, it had crawled between my cheek and my goggle-strap. I had to pry it away from the strap -- they cling fiercely.
Double bonus gratefulness points to the person who can tell me the title of a classic? book that has a passage about June Bugs tangling in women's hairstyles. I *think* it was in a collection of short stories about a family? a girl? who was never quite getting things right, like about the bus ride on the sunny side going in the morning, and returning in the evening, not taking into account both position of the sun AND reversal of the bus.
Ooh, I hate having fragments in my head. I ever so wrongly stored the stories in my mind under the name "Pickwick Papers" and when I went to reread them, I found Dickens to be a slow go, and not the stories I'd read.