A Brief Post About the Dangers of Spring

I don't know if I've ever told you people this, but Wasps love me.

The insect, I mean. The horrible, angry, stinging insect. Not the Protestants. As it stands, White people, to this point in my life, are very much divided.

But the stinging bug is very fond of yours, truly.

As I was walking, out and about, I found myself descended upon by one of those wonderful, H.R. Giger looking bastards, who must have decided he liked my t-shirt that has a chicken saying "Moo" on it. Because despite all my attempts at evasion, the bugger kept flying close to take a look.

Well, I walked, and we had a windy moment. I should mention that. March came in like a Lion, pissed on everything and decided to stick around for April, too. Windy sumbitch today. I'm a big fellow, but a couple of times, I felt myself fairly well shoved by the movement of air from areas of one pressure to a lower concentration of air pressure. Such is the way of things.

To that point, we'd had a fair stretch of an hour or two, where the wind wasn't blowing as hard.

And all it once, it started up. I looked up. I did so much as a fool would do. My mouth was open. There are many trees in bloom. Dogwoods, and Redbuds. I assume it was the petal of the latter that went into my mouth, because upon removal, it had a bright pink tinge to it, and the there are many in the area.

Yep. Looked up. Open mouth. Flower petal.

However, that was not my first instinct.

Anybody nearby would have gotten to see a half-second's worth of panic.

I was sure as anything in this life that my waspery friend had just flown into my mouth.

Now, the intelligent among you will no doubt mention that there is a tremendous textural difference between the petal of a redbud bloom, and a wasp.

To that, I can say only: You're right.

Also: Shut up!

Anyway. That was the day.