‘Knowing when to leave can be the smartest …’

Living in nature can be just as peaceful as it is overwhelming sometimes. Last Friday I was so taken by “nature” I had no choice but to leave … sore, disappointed, confused and abused.

You see, all summer I’ve been watching the weeds wreak havoc with the wild flowers in our yard. There is SO MUCH weeding I didn’t know where to start.

Then I realized I could make a difference in the Vinca patch next to the steps, under the Junipers. So I waited for the heat wave to pass and finally last week got psyched up and geared up to attack those weeds.

Starting at the top I pulled Goldenrod and Bittersweet, used the hand rake to release last fall’s oak leaves, pushed acorns down to the next step, and lopped dead branches from the Junipers. It was looking pretty – neat and tidy, as I like it. Speaks to my sense of order. Ahhh …

Stepping down to the next layer of Vinca I reached for the loppers once again to pinch off some dead branches but then WHAM! something hit me. I don’t even remember leaving the spot but all of a sudden I was swatting at bees swarming, landing on my black turtleneck, buzzing my face.

I found myself over the wall, on the stairs with bees on me. Tearing off my hat, shirt and gloves, I ran up the stairs – confused, flushed – and opened the front door just enough to say, “Help.” If there were any lingerers, I wanted them outside, right?

imagesJust the week before my Honey started weeding next to the house where we’re planning a small addition, and got jabbed in the hand. Twice. A close, bee-keeping relative said they were probably Yellow Jackets.

“You’ll know them because they have yellow legs,” she said.

Oh right! Let me just run out and check their little hairy legs! Even after suffering eight or nine stings, I don’t know what color their legs were. Doesn’t matter really. They pack a punch and leave a hot spot that lasts for several hours. Four days later the spots itch like crazy.

My reaction to stinging bees was so quick I don’t remember extricating myself. Yet it can take years to apply that lesson to relationships – where the sting can be felt much deeper and the pain may last far too long.

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