Last Sunday morning, just before a big thunderstorm was about to start, I decided I'd better pick up the big pile of weeds that I'd left on the grass. When I weed, I look like a bargain crazed woman at Filene's Basement digging through the underwear - things just go flying. I clean up the carnage later. As I was walking to the back vegetable garden (which from now on will be called my Shame Garden - more on that later) I noticed something in the cherry tree. My first thought was - how the heck did Aunt Jemima get out of the coop and why in the sam hill is she sitting in the cherry tree? Milliseconds later - I thought it was a hawk - five seconds later, I realized it was my bees.
They'd swarmed.
I panicked.
A little.
I hollered for Glenco. I ran in circles. I called Ed the Bee Guy, no answer. I ran in circles some more.
I ran to the hive, I thought they'd all left...but no...there were still thousands happily going on with their lives not caring that half of the family up and left.
Once I caught my breath, I got a cardboard box, my pruners and Glenco. "Here honey - hold the branch - what we are going to do is to cut the branch and carefully place it in the box."
Easy peasey.
And it was easy - I couldn't get over how easy.
"There - put a lid on it - here, let me put a rock on it - this storm looks like it could get bad."
All the while I'm thinking how awesome I am - I just caught a bee swarm. I imagined my friend's shocked reactions, to which I'd respond "Oh, that? That was no big deal. It was just five pounds of live bees hanging off a branch. Child's play my friend - child's play."
I kept taking pictures, and looking at the bees when the sky broke loose and it started pouring.
I started running.
Now - I don't run.
I walk fast, I skip, I saunter, but this girl doesn't run.
It would be like a bad Japanese movie if I did - I'm sure it would be in slow motion and there would be a sound track.
But, I decide to run - after all, I'm getting soaked, and it means my camera is too - did I tell you I was wearing Crocs? Ya. Ok - so I run - I get to the porch steps and now - cue that soundtrack and slow it down, cause this girl's goin' down - I could actually see myself in slow motion, hollering - twisting - "Saaavveee theeee cammmeeerraaaa" - so I took one for the team and landed on both knees - on the cement.
As I'm recounting this story to my friend on the phone - Glen comes in and is doing all these hand signals - all I could make out was that something had blown over, was rolling, and something was flying - dear Lord! The bees! The storm was a doozy, and now my box of bees were rolling across the yard in a downpour. They were recovered. No casualties.
We drove about a half an hour away to Ed and Bea's house to pick up a hive for the bees. How cute is it that Ed, my bee mentor is married to someone named Bea? They invited us in, and we sat and chatted what seemed to be like hours while I sat there in the house with my prescription sunglasses on. Why I didn't go to the car and get my regular glasses I don't know. Why I'm even mentioning this on the blog, I don't know. I felt like I was doing something wrong, like wearing a baseball cap to a Southern Baptist Church meeting. I felt like Michael Jackson. It was just weird. I kept wondering, 'do they think I'm weird?'
Luckily, they didn't answer that - out loud.
When I went to bed that night, I noticed a dry patch on my chin and scolded myself for not moisturizing more.
The next day I went for my first haircut after getting my last haircut.
Read that again and tell me how ridiculous I am.
It'd been two months since I got my hair cut shorter.
It was time for a trim and a dye job. I'd had enough of Clairol in a box and decided to treat myself to to a real 'in town hair colorin'. She asked how I liked my haircut last time, and I told her how I loved it, and got a lot of compliments. Next thing I know I felt a razor going across the back of my head.
Oh. Dear. Lord.
My hair is now about an inch and a half long in the back, a little longer on the top. Seriously, folks, this is a little short. I feel like I'm playing for the other team now, not that there's anything wrong with that - but it's short.
Upside - and I always do try to look for the upside - I look cute in hats, I won't need another cut until the snow flies, and now I don't even need to comb my hair. I just rub it a little.
The dry patch is getting a little bigger.
Next day.
I have ringworm. On m'face. Dear sweet Lord. It sounds so 'creepy'. RINGWORM. Doesn't it make your skin crawl to think of it? Immediately I Google it. Yep. It's ringworm. So glad to know there are actually no worms involved.
There's a fungus among us.
Glen scolds me for the umpteenth time for kissing chickens.
But I ask you friends, how can you not?
All my mind could think of was when I was a little child, one of my mentally disabled sister's friends would visit - her name was Sandra C (just to protect her) and my mom told me she had trench mouth. That sounds worse than ringworm, doesn't it? My mom, in her southern accent would warn us all that Sandra C was coming for a visit, and 'Landsakes alive ....don't drink after her, she has trench mouth." My child's mind would envision a mouth with a trench coat on it. Still does in fact.
Then of course, I had to Google trench mouth. Trust me on this one - don't.
Let's see - ring worm home remedies - clear nailpolish. Did that for two days. I thought it would burn right through to my chin bone. Then I decided to do a comfrey leaf compress.
I'm out in the yard working on the garden, preparing for the infamous Garden Walk, and I hear a quack. I haven't blogged much lately, so you all don't know that Maude up and left about two weeks ago. She'd left here and there before, a day or two - but this time she was gone for almost two weeks, and Claude left shortly after she did. (They are both back now!) I actually printed out her picture and added it to the 'Fallen Fowl' wall. I figured they were in the big pond in the sky.
I got four more baby ducks.
Of course I did.
So here I am in the yard, with a comfrey leaf on my face, held in place by an Ace bandage wrapped around my entire head, with 1.5" long hair, apologizing to a duck. After my initial jubilation of her unexpected arrival, the guilt set in as she heard the baby ducks. She kept looking at me - the guilt burned in my soul. I felt like a wife that hadn't grieved long enough for her husband before she remarried.
"Did you really expect me to live duckless Maude?" I was lonely!
The ringworm has tripled in size. I shan't leave the house until it's healed. I'm using Lamisil cream now.
I really thought I was going to have a relatively easy week this week, and then I started working on my garden of shame. It's so shameful, I can't even talk about it. It deserves it's own post. Then we cut a winding path to through back acre and I waded ankle deep through a field of poison ivy. I have poison ivy ankle bracelets. I'm sunburnt/tan to the point of looking leathery. All I need is a smoker's cough now. I have to hand trim and rake a 300' winding path this week. Good times.
I took Aaron to see Eclipse on Wednesday. Oh dear. I have a terrible crush on Jacob. Why doesn't Bella choose Jacob? Sure, Edward is all sensitive and rich, but Jacob....sweet Jacob.
I wear the same shirt. Every. Day. I don't know why. It's just easy.
This one.
We've been living on Vienna hotdogs and Polish Sausage.
Seriously.
I'm sorry if I've burst your bubble.
Speaking of Vienna - did you know she and Jake broke up?
Shocking, isn't it?
I drank wine with lunch twice this week.
With my hotdog.
I felt like European White Trash.
I bought four more guineas babies.
See, I don't grieve long. If there's anything my quasi-country life has taught me, it's to count your losses and move on. After the Great Memorial Day Guinea Massacre of 2010, I didn't think I could bear another guinea, but alas, my heart has healed, and the memory of that sad day but a distant memory, I got four more. They promptly trampled one to death. Seriously guinea? Why must you elude me so. One down, three to go. Keep your fingers crossed.
The garden is inching ever closer to it's day in the limelight. I have friends waiting in the wings to help if I need it - but at this point, it's a spiritual quest to finish it on my own. It really wouldn't be hard for a normal person to do this. I have severe ADD and can't make a decision if my life depended on it, so I roam the yard wondering what to do first more than I actually dig or work. In fact, if I were normal, I would have been floating on inner tubes and drinking Pina Colada's for the last month. I keep making lists, and then throwing them away cause they stress me out, and then I go out again and make another list - over and over - I make a decision, and half way through doing the project, I decide it's a bad idea and leave if half done and start something else.
My internal dialogue whilst doing yard work today: Oh, I want a couple little goats. They couldn't be that much trouble - could they? Wish I could get a couple before the garden walk - oh, that would be so cool. Hey, my neighbor has goats. I wonder if I could borrow a couple of goats for the garden walk. ya, that is a good idea - I could BORROW the goats, and then find out if they are that much trouble, and then I could get some. I could just go to the sale barn this Monday and buy a few goats. That's a great idea! How am I gonna get them home? Hmm....I don't know? The back of the Jeep? Would they just stay put while I drove? Ya, that's what I'll do - I'll go to the sale barn on Monday and get a few goats, and then - wait - why would somebody sell their goats there? What if it's cause it's a problem goat? How would I know if it was a problem goat? What if it got out the night before the garden walk and ate everything? Hmmm- I should just borrow the neighbors goats.
I actually called the neighbor and asked to borrow her goats.
She said it wouldn't be a good idea so soon before the garden walk.
Glenco was staring at me without blinking.
His lovely wife of nearly 30 years. Sunburnt, leathery. poison ivy covered ankles, hair an inch and half long - hot dog breath, and ringworm face, on the phone asking to borrow the neighbor's goat.
Gotta love it.
Hey - at least I don't have trench mouth.
