I was a guest at a lakefront party a few weeks ago. Lake St. Clair to be exact, the big body of shallow water that straddles the Great Lakes’ Erie and Huron, yet has never been crowned as one of the five Great Lakes. Sitting under one of the two large tent structures that sheltered a huge hot tub, beer fridge and state-of-the-art BBQ among other beach party requisites, I thought the tied-back screen valances that rimmed the structures were evening defense for mosquito invasions. It seemed a little early in the season for those tiny tyrannical bloodsuckers but I left it at that. What arrived... (Read More ...)