March 18, 2024
The Hornets Nest
It was a typical morning in our home. We were up before the sun, and after coffee, my wife got ready for work as I threw a load of laundry in the washer. When I exited the house to warm up my wife’s car, I saw particles of pine pollen floating through the porch light. Pollen completely enveloped her car. After she left, I sat down at my desk to write.
Just before twilight, I walked into the woods. The air smelled of pollen from the pines and smoke from a neighbor’s chimney. With each step, puffs of yellow smoke rose from the forest floor, created by the thin powdery pollen that coated the ground. In the grove, I passed by the apple-flavored salt lick, noticing something had finally found it, part of its surface worn smooth, probably from a deer’s tongue. When I looked east, the view looked like a postcard, with the crop field’s bright green grasses and tall budding trees growing above. There were large horizontal bands of dark clouds that rose in layers from the ground to the sky above me, and the spaces between the bands were glowing brightly. I stopped to photograph the scene.
The trail was turning greener by the day. Near the central part of the forest, I heard a loud sound, like the cry or bark of a coyote. I stopped and looked around, but spotted nothing. To my left, I saw the tips of the tallest trees lighting, indicating the sun had lifted above the eastern tree line. As I walked, my ankles itched inside my boots, and when I arrived at Beaver Tooth Rock, I slipped one off, noticing swollen mosquito bites. They must have been out last night as I relaxed by the fire.
I sat at Beaver Tooth Rock for a while, soaking up the morning sounds. Songbirds chirped all around as woodpeckers thumped on the nearby trees. A blue heron flew above me. I had tried to photograph this enormous bird for over a year now. I’ll get him one day. Large gusts of wind traveled through the forest. I heard them coming from afar, getting louder until they finally reached me, blowing frigid air on me before moving on. The wind reminded me of being on the pier at the reservoir. In the distance, boats would rush by, creating large wakes. I could see these waves moving slowly toward me, until several minutes later, they finally rocked the pier, while the boat had long disappeared from sight.
This morning, I planned to sit in the tree stand near the creek. When I arrived at the stand, I connected my harness to the safety rope and made my way up the thirty-foot climb with my camera and a large telephoto lens strapped around my shoulder and hanging on my back. When I arrived at the top, I had to swing open an arm that holds a canvas material that covers the seating area, something that aided in camouflaging my position up in the trees. The material had been on the stand for years and was full of mosses and fungi. I flipped the arm up, inspected the stand for snakes and spiders, and then crawled up onto the platform to sit.
As soon as my butt hit the seat, I heard something buzzing nearby. A single wasp was sitting on the stand next to me, about twelve inches to my right. It looked large and menacing, but moved slowly and did not appear agitated. The wasp drifted off the blind and floated off into the forest. Another wasp emerged and did the same thing. Then another and another. Flipping up the material around the stand must have disturbed a nest. I sat completely still as over forty wasps came out, crawling slowly, and then drifting off into the breeze. I waited for them all to leave, but they kept coming. This was a very precarious situation, as I could not exit the stand without flipping back the material. I didn’t want a swarm of wasps attacking me while I was trying to get down a thirty-foot ladder. Oh, the joys.
I felt lucky the wasps were calm, and that they were leaving one by one. But how many were there? Should I wait them out? After ten minutes of remaining perfectly still, the situation worsened. The wasps that had left the stand returned. I knew if one of them became agitated, then they’d all be on me like a swarm of — well, wasps? Inch by inch, I lowered myself into a seated position on the stand’s floor, my boots dangling, searching for the ladder’s top step. I finally found it and eased down, facing away from the ladder, which is the exact opposite of how a ladder was supposed to be used. Once I was down far enough to slip completely out from under the material, I turned around and faced the ladder, making my way to the ground. Crisis averted.
In the evening, my wife came home with several goodies. While in Raleigh, she made an impromptu trip to Costco and bought several snacks for me to take to the monthly Wilson Camera Club meeting tomorrow. During the last meeting, I volunteered to bring food. My wife had picked up bottles of water, croissants, danishes, and other yummy pastries. I had planned to make a trip to the story this evening, and I was trying to figure out what to take, as I wanted everyone to have some delightful treats during the meeting. I felt like a little kid whose parent had done their science fair project. There would be no trip into town tonight!
I chopped some wood and lit a fire on the patio while my wife whipped up some of her famous homemade ranch dressing. She made a quick salad with pizza and we ate outside, talking about our day. Yesterday, we both felt life’s stresses. This evening, however, the reports were conclusive. My wife received positive feedback and encouragement at work and in a meeting with her school counselor, who assured her she was doing well. It’s always nice to hear that from someone who has all the data in front of them. My long list of work items was shorter than expected, and when I delved into the bigger projects, they were simpler than I anticipated.
My wife and I talked about how when we felt pressure, it was often self-induced. This was a tricky path, because while overthinking can turn a non-stressful situation into a problem, it was also our attention to detail that helped make us successful in our respective careers. So, the part of our character that produced positive results was also the same part of us that made certain times feel stressful. The trick was to learn to balance it perfectly so that we could reap the benefits without the negative side effects. Of course, as humans, it was not only unlikely to happen, but it was guaranteed that we would repeatedly face this challenge in life. We could either be all in or all out. Rather than getting rid of the negatives, which admittedly, were inevitable, we would learn how to better manage stress and how to snap ourselves out of these tricky cycles. Having a partner with a keen eye was key. My wife knew when to shake me awake, and I knew when she needed the same. The basic moral here is to shake your babies. Wait.
As we talked, a herd of deer were in the trails behind our house, possibly eavesdropping on our conversation. When they grew bored, they moved to the pasture out front to feed. My wife and I watched the sun hit the tips of the eastern pines in the grove, signaling the sun was about to set in the west. Then, at 7:08 PM, like someone flipped a switch, the golden light was gone. My wife went inside to bathe and I stay outside by the fire, sipping some single barrel bourbon. It was a beautiful night, and I knew I would miss this the next evening. The camera club meeting would take me away from this place, but hey, sometimes I had to show my face in society.