I discovered a new hobby after I retired and moved back in with my Mom in the house I grew up in. They call it “yardwork”, but it is yard play to me. Since I had lived in apartments most of my adult life, it was new to me to have a yard. I am obsessed with almost anything that has a power cord, battery, or motor. Lawnmowers, weed eaters, and battery-operated clippers are my yard toys. My Mom is delighted that she doesn’t have to nag my brother to mow and he’s almost as delighted as me that I look forward to engaging with the lawnmower.
This hobby does carry some risk though. On a June day, I got stung after five decades of not having so much as one sting. I was literally stunned that I got stung! Then, two weeks later I got stung again. This time I took a look around because it happened at the very same place at the side of the house right next to our wooden fence. Low and behold, there were some wasps that built themselves a nest ON the fence. Their own space was hanging midway between the top of the fence and bottom.
I was stung right under my chin. It wasn’t so painful that I walked away to get it treated. There was something I wanted more than relief. What was that? REVENGE!
Stung twice in two weeks! I wasn’t letting them wasps off the hook. The question wasn’t when but HOW I would get revenge relief. I ruled out knocking their space with a stick or broom because I figured that would mean WAR and they had the upper hand since they can fly and fly fast and I can’t do either.
I took a look around the yard for any weapon that would work. The water hose caught my eye. Drowning! I positioned myself at the corner of the back of the house. I kept my distance staying on the other side while I aimed the hose at my target. It didn’t take much hosin’ to knock off the nest. If there were any wasps in the nest that survived and flew off, I didn’t see them.
I told my Mom afterward about the fence post drowning. She said she had read in the newspaper that killing bees is a bad idea. How’s that? The bees kill so many insects that they are more of a help than a pain. Now she tells me.
I wish this had been the end of the story. Don’t I ever!
The story picks up after I went to bed that night. To my utter dismay, I discovered I had been stung not just once, not twice, but THREE times! All three bee bites were located from my chiny-chin-chin to the bottom of my neck. It itched. How much did it itch? There are no words to fully answer that question and give it justice!
Although I had been stung in the early afternoon, the bites did not launch a full attack until after I went to bed. That’s really lowdown if you ask me.
The only relief I had during the night was an ice pad I held under my chin. When the pad was thawed out, I had to get up and switch out with another. It was a long night thanks to the bee attack. I thought I had gotten away with my revenge with only a slight sting. It seemed in my misery that the execution backfired on me.
In defense of the stingers, I am protective of my own space. My precious space is my bedroom in my Mom’s house where I live. It is where my other electronic gadgets are kept. If someone were to invade my space, move my stuff around, I would be burning mad. Blowing steam! May I say, “mad as a hornet’s nest!”
I’m still mad at them wasps, but I haven’t hosed any more of the bees that have unpacked their suitcases in the yard. They can keep their space as far as I’m concerned. The stings left a lasting impression.