It was 6 p.m. and warm, so the bees were active. Pete dumped one of the containers into a hive and a handful made for me. One hopped onto my head and stung me in the side of the head.
Needless to say, it was like in the cartoons. I ran out of the bee area, arms a waving and yelling things I ought not repeat. I could hear them buzzing, and a few were in my hair.
I went into the house, leaving the uninvited guests outside. Once inside, I pulled the stinger out of my temple. Pete, who came in a few minutes later, looked at the photos with me and said “not bad.”
Signy update: in the words of The Talking Heads “It’s the same as it ever was.”
No foal yet. With increased technological advances, we become less patient. I am now including myself in this lot.
Next: 135. 4/22/12: You are my Sunshine