She was as graceful as a fawn and as jubilant as a Russian. She was dancing and twirling and jumping up to catch the chinaberry boughs that broke off in her hand. Sagalen, from the kitchen doorway, was waiting for her to step on an ant hill. So was I, as I pressed my forehead against the tight-shut window. You don't just run around in the Brawley back yard, or any other back yard in Texas without a concern for being bit.
Fire ants are part of the landscape.
Part of life. Fire ants are something that came crawling up over the border, I forget how many years ago. They are an established part of Texas lore by now. At first I myself had not believed in their menace and ubiquity. But I did now.