Yellow Jacket

Not the wasp that stung me – Photo: L. Weikel

Aaargh. I took advantage of the temperatures being ten degrees lower today than they were earlier in the week and mowed my part of the lawn. (For some inexplicable reason, Karl and I have taken to each mowing our own segments of lawn.) I hadn’t mown more than two stripes of lawn when I felt a searing pain in my left knee. I was surprised because I was in a really grassy part of the lawn, with very few stones that might accidentally get flung at me. But when I looked down, I realized a yellow jacket had entered my jeans via a large rip just below the knee.

Curses

I flailed and I hopped and I shook my leg, slapping at my pant leg and fearing there were more inside my pants. I’m sure you’re shocked to learn that I yelped and called that yellow jacket every name in the book. The only reason I know it was a yellow jacket (looked just like the one pictured in this article) was because it fell out onto the top of my sneaker as I beat my leg senseless.

But it was a singlet (thank goodness). I have no idea where it came from or why it attacked me. I suspect it may be related to the fact that Karl had a run-in with a whole bunch of wasps last week, when he was mowing ‘his’ part of the lawn behind the barn. He hit a nest built into the ground, and boy did they get him good. I think he suffered at least six or eight stings, poor baby. One got him so good it left black and blue bruises on his leg.

His reaction to the stings was a bit, shall we say, aggressive (albeit understandable).

My theory is that this single yellow jacket was a type of kamikaze wasp. It knew a human was associated with the roaring machine that cuts down everything in its path (including their homes). It knew what was responsible for attacking its home and family recently and it was determined to avenge their deaths.

Shifting Blame

Well, in addition to name calling, I also yelled at the yellow jacket that stung me (and any others that might be listening) that I hadn’t harmed them. I’d even tried to ward Karl off of taking revenge against the wasps that attacked him last week. I’d been their champion, in a sense – or at least their apologist. I couldn’t believe they were going after me when I’d done nothing to provoke them.

I have no idea whether my innocence was conveyed and a crisis was averted or if I just happened to piss off one solitary yellow jacket. All I know is, I’m glad I only got stung once because this single sting is causing me a disconcerting amount of sharp, burning pain. Perhaps it’s because I was stung on my knee cap. There’s not a lot of flesh there, and it’s also getting aggravated and stretched whenever I walk.

Mother’s Remedy

I immediately patted down the sting site with bleach – and took a couple Advil, mostly to no avail. I’d say the best treatment of the entire evening was holding a Ziplok-ed bag of ice against the swollen sting site. Now that the icy numbness has worn off, it once again feels like my knee is on fire.

I’m thinking about the fact that the sting took place on my knee. Since knees are associated with moving forward, it might mean that I’m being ‘provoked’ into taking affirmative steps to create the change I’ve felt approaching for some time now.

Or maybe we just have a bunch of really angry wasps down by our barn and they’re going to make everyone associated with the lawn mower pay.