The summer people behind my yard kept bees. A long row of stacked boxes were kept right along the property line, though they possessed an acre or two of land. I suppose this was because we had gardens and apple trees. Dad didn’t complain. He wanted the pollinators. The old man showed up once a year in his bee suit, armed with his smoker, and collected honey. I liked watching him – from a distance. I don’t remember him ever giving us any honey. It didn’t seem fair. There wouldn’t be any honey without our flowers. Millions or trillions of bees buzzed through my childhood. I learned to live peacefully with them.
I took a walk in the park with a friend this week and told him about my childhood bees. I smugly repeated my childhood adage, “Don’t bug them, they won’t bug you.” Obviously, I tempted fate.
Bro4 has repeatedly directed me to paint my shed. I’ve repeatedly promised to get around to it. Some day… Okay, I finally started moving my pile of old logs so I could get to the shed walls. The logs were falling apart so I got a pitchfork and started tossing them into the yard waste bin. I noticed a few bee-like things buzzing around, but mostly ignored them. I noticed they were very fuzzy, a little smaller and darker than the usual honeybee. I was a little curious, but I was a woman on a mission. I was finally going to paint the shed. After all, Bro4 added to my to do list when he dropped off a ladder. Apparently my next job is to clean out my gutters. I guess they aren’t supposed to have maple trees growing in them?
Anyway,
my pitchfork snagged some weeds off a log and exposed a hive of monsters. The monsters got upset. I had a moment of surprise and the monsters
took that moment to make a beeline to my tender flesh. OW, ow, ow, ow, OW!!! I guess I broke the bee rule. I didn’t leave them alone and suffered the
consequences. It’s war. They’re going to die! Actually, it took me a while to start
thinking about drawing battle lines. I
hobbled to the house and tried desperately to remember what to do about bee
stings.
I haven’t been stung since I was a kid and I stepped on a rotten apple with a bare foot. A very angry bee was inside. I was stung between my little toes, which is a nasty place to hide a stinger. I tried to remember what Mom did then. I was pretty sure she plastered my toes with baking soda, or maybe it was meat tenderizer? Lacking tenderizer, I slathered soda on my extremely painful elbow and knee – and then a spider bit me on my other arm! Nature hates me this week.
My tender parts are back to normal looking. I don’t hurt anymore, but I’m going a little crazy from itchiness. Like I said, I’m pretty sure I’m going to survive this time. Probably. It’s too bad I don’t have a bee suit and a smoker because those monsters have to go! Except? I had another recent conversation with a beekeeper and said I sometimes think about keeping bees too. I have space and bees are good for gardens and flowers. I think I’ve accidentally gotten my wish. Can I unwish something?
I tried to look up what kind of bees I've got, but I'm just not sure. Anyone know about bees?
