This morning I spoke to Ray, who runs our town, about the state-wide program to control mosquitoes—they intend to spray, and that means killing birds and bees, and very likely harming humans, too. I agreed to help draft a letter with an opt-out plan. Once home, I planted tomatoes I’d started from seed—a kind of miracle as those seeds are no bigger than a sneeze. But now look how their brave stalks thrust up from the warming earth. Even at this tender stage, they smell indelibly of summer—oh no—what is that whining sound above my head?