It’s been no secret and actually a little embarrassing that I never finished mowing my yard after those yellow jackets tried to murder me a few weeks ago. There are several things I can point to as to why I never finished mowing, one being that even though those bees are dead and gone, I can’t guarantee that there aren’t more somewhere else in the yard and I really don’t like getting stung. Another being that the head index has reached 100 degrees nearly every day for the last week, and not much cooler the weeks before that. Or, and the most likely answer, is that even though there was a patch of unmowed grass just in front of our porch that was nearly knee deep (when I say a patch, I’m talking about 2 feet x 3 feet area), I just…never…felt like doing it. Laziness in other words. There’s so many other things I could be doing, and I could easily come up with several logical and reasonable excuses as to why I never finished mowing.
This morning, I put those behind me and knocked that baby out. But here’s an interesting thought while I was mowing:
When we killed the yellow jackets, we snuck out late at night, poured a coffee cup full of gasoline down their hole and jammed a rock down in it, as to cover and seal it. That rock is still there and I have no intention of ever moving it. Yes, I realize it’s been about 3 weeks since that took place and if the bees haven’t gotten together to move the rock away by now, it’s certain that they’re all dead, laying on their wings underneath the nest that was melted by the gasoline…But that’s now how I like to look at it.
Each time I mowed past the rock, I pictured the queen still laying the bottom of the hole-turned-tomb, and she’s pissed. She’s mad and she knows I’m above her mowing away. She’s lost a lot of weight in her depression and speaks through gritted bee-teeth each time I pass, cursing me “Next time lawn mower man, I will REALLY bring the pain!” After I pass she forgets about me, then when I come back, she’s reminded of the carnage that took place at 11pm on that fateful Saturday night…”Curse you, mower of the lawn! Next time, Gadget! Next time!”
Her misery and intentions of revenge make mowing just a little easier. And for the record, no bees today.
Enjoy today’s haiku:
Now that I’m finished
mowing the lawn, I do not
care I rose early