Escape

My husband keeps bees. There are two hives in the orchard, just a short distance from the house. More hives out in the field. Lots of honey equipment in the shed out front, which the bees from the orchard have found and are raiding for any leftover honey.

I have a tree in the front yard that blooms late each spring and literally hums it attracts so many bees. Every size, shape, color and variety imaginable. You can hear it from the porch.

There are wasp nests in every peak of our house. And one underneath the bench on the side porch, which I keep reminding Chris to get rid of but which keeps getting forgotten and keeps growing and growing. (Wasps are not bees, I know this, but I still lump all such things together.)

Bees don't much like freshly turned dirt. I don't know if it's the smell or the sight or what, but it bothers them and they tend to sting more readily when bothered. Bees do like flowers, obviously.

I live on a farm where we're constantly turning over the soil. And I grow flowers, which I cut by hand and turn into bouquets.

And I'm wildly allergic to bees.

Sitting in my front lawn yesterday, a bee bumped into me on its way to or from the orchard. I ducked. It dove. I laid flat, Calvin on my tummy, and it swooped right after me. It got stuck momentarily in my hair.

I try to be adult about these things. Chris has told me dozens of times that I should just be still. But I'm terrified. With Calvin I am petrified. And Calvin, naturally, can tell. So there I am, frantically trying to get a bee out of my hair without getting stung, clutching a wriggling and now crying Calvin, wondering where my current epi pin is (the one in my bag is expired), and shrieking for my husband who is oblivious, singing in the shower upstairs. I picture the bees working kind of like our barn swallows. This one is undoubtedly sending out a bee signal that will alert the hive, and whole colonies are about to descend upon me in a cloud the way the swallows gang up on our cat.

With the bee out of my hair and merely buzzing angrily around us, I make a break for the house and dash inside. This makes Calvin abruptly laugh, and I tell him it's really not very funny. I can still see the bee, now investigating Calvin's bottle, which I left behind.

I head upstairs to tell Chris I don't want those hives in the orchard that close to the house anymore. This is the second time this week that a bee has been after me. It's not like honey bees to do this, and maybe this isn't a honey bee, but I don't care much just now. He nods, agrees, and then suggests that perhaps the bee is confused by my dress. Bees, at least in part, identify their hives by color, usually white. I am wearing a blue and white striped dress. I consider this. And I consider that I'm considering how much I may resemble a stack of bee supers to a bee. And I feel ridiculous.

It's much too nice to be cooped up inside, and Calvin wants to go back out. I move to a completely different part of the yard. After all, I live on this farm. I don't have many options when it comes to avoiding bees. And I can't look that much like a bee hive. But within minutes, this bee is back. And yes, I'm positive it is the same bee. This time I'm separated from Calvin, and I feel like the worst kind of mother as I run away, darting and scampering. Calvin laughs uproariously. Mommy looks pretty silly. But the bee is now circling him and I am momentarily frozen, helpless, between my child and my fear. Of course, Calvin, being a baby, follows his father's advice to the letter and doesn't move at all except to keep giggling. The bee, after a few reconnaissance circuits, moves on.

We move inside.

3 AM, an hour at which I'm inevitably awake these days, I wonder what in the world I am doing here. It's not an hour when one should really delve into such serious topics, but I can't stop myself. And I keep coming to the conclusion that I am not cut out for this. I am going to be stung by another bee sooner or later. Even I can see that the bee has morphed, at this dark hour, into a big obvious emblem of all the things that aren't right. It grows to epic, monster proportions in my mind. If I need to get away from it, where can I move to now?