One by one, I keep checking items off the list of life experiences. I took care of stitches last November, and now I have officially been stung by a bee. I really thought I was going to get away without one of those.
It happened while I was vanquishing thistles in my garden. Ironically, I had just glanced at my shasta daisies and coneflowers swarming with busy bees and thought to myself, “When I was little I was too scared of bees to stand this close to them. But now that I’m older I know they won’t hurt me, since I’m just minding my business and they are minding theirs.” Little did I know I had a furry bee sitting on my shirt by my elbow. As soon as I brushed my arm against it, it decided to complain.
What followed must have been quite a spectacle. I looked down to see what had bitten me, and when I saw the furry black and yellow creature, I screamed. Then I shook the bee off my shirt and ran as fast as I could. Landon reports that he knew something was wrong when I didn’t stop running till I had ran clear to the other side of the yard.
Fortunately, Mom thinks it was a pretty mild sting, as the stinger was not stuck in my arm. I still had a little red welt, though! I’m certainly glad it was a bee and not a wasp!