Move over Monkeys! Bah Bye Babette! THE BEES ARE IN TOWN!
You know, there’s a reason my knitting generally turns out so well – my particular talent is putting genius together! Great yarn + great patterns = FABULOUS knits! It’s really quite easy. I’m QUITE proud of my latest trick! The other day I was talking to my genius friend Tina (the one responsible for my favorite sock yarn) about my genius friend Anne (knit designer extraordinaire!) We were talking about my finished Moth Shawl and I was asking Tina if she had seen the new Bee Fields Shawl and oh my god isn’t it FANTASTIC?!? Then I subtly dropped some hints like “Wouldn’t it be amazing if you were to dye up a colorway that was ACTUALLY honey?! Hmmm. Could you do that?” Tina, never one to shy away from a challenge, said OF COURSE she could!
I am so, so pleased to introduce Oregon Red Clover Honey!
I took it out of the box yesterday and for about fifteen seconds I wondered if it was too dark, but then I went to the cabinet and took out some honey. It’s UNBELIEVABLY PERFECT!
By sheer genius, Tina has managed to capture all the subtleties of honey – the bronzes, the reds, the blonds, the golds! I snapped a few pictures and immediately started winding it up! Imagine how pleased I was to find that it completely resembled a honeycomb in the yarn cake!
It took forever to wind! There is A LOT of yarn in this baby. It’s Blue Moon’s Laci yarn (100% Extra Fine 80’s Merino), and it comes with a whopping 1750 yards. I’ve been assured that while the Oregon Red Clover Honey colorway isn’t up there this second, it will be up on their website sometime today. ETA: IT’s UP! (You’ll be able to find it in the shaded solids section.)
It was all I could do NOT to cast on immediately, but I had some errands to run. As soon as I was home that baby hit the needles. I’m using size 5 needles (Addi Lace Turbos) and for the provisional cast on, I used Eunny’s directions found here – the second crochet cast on.
This is not a lace pattern for the faint of heart. I’ve never used a life line in my lace knitting before (and yes, I’ve had to rip plenty) but with this one – this one I’m getting out the dental floss! I’m about 16 rows into it and it’s quite enjoyable – I can already see the border and pattern emerging – but it takes a lot of concentration. Actually, now that I think about it, Monkeys and Babette might be the perfect partners for The Bees.
Because I’m very impatient, I also ordered yarn from Anne over at Wooly Wonka Fibers. This is the Buckwheat Honey colorway of the yarn Anne and Anne used for The Bee Fields Kit.
Since I jumped the gun, I’d love to share this kit with you. Leave me your favorite bee story – whether it’s a bee sting, a honey recipe, anything goes, and I’ll choose a winner at random on Tuesday. Please, one entry per person. You will receive the Buckwheat Honey yarn and the Bee Fields Pattern. Entries will be accepted through 11:59 PM Monday, July 30.
ETA: This just in!! Tina has generously donated a skein of Oregon Red Clover Honey, and I’ll supply another copy of Anne’s pattern! So we’ll have TWO winners! YAY!
Have a fantastic weekend!
I don’t know that I have a bee story. I have been eyeing the kit, but Big Boy broke his arm and had his tonsils out 2 weeks ago. So all the money is going to the doctors! No pity though, I have lots of yarn.
The only bee related story I have is teaching my boys their animals and the sounds. My Baby Boy looks so cute going “buzz buzz”. Melts my heart every time!
Hi, Tina sent me to the blog specifically to see the Oregon Red Clover Honey color BECAUSE I told her I wanted to knit this shawl! My favorite bee story: we once bought a house that came with honeybees. Actually, it came with honeybee equipment and I had to go out and buy bees which came in the mail. (a story all in itself). In the winter, if it gets warm out, the bees come out of the hive to poop, otherwise they stay inside and hold it. I was checking activity one warm winter day and one of the bees was in a particularly bad mood about me bee-ing there. He took out after me and I ran as fast as I could for about three blocks with him in hot pursuit. I stopped to catch my breath, and he got me, right by my eye. The entire eye socket swelled up the size of a tennis ball. And this, the day before we left to visit inlaws for Christmas. Had to explain to everyone that I’ld been chased and stung by a bee. Of course, no one believed me. They all insisted that bees are never out in the dead of winter. Christmas morning pictures from that year are a hoot to look at now.
Anyway, love your knitting and can’t wait to see your Bee Fields!
Bee story, huh?
My hubby, myself, and 5 kids got home from church one Sunday with our Arby’s takeout. We sat outside at the table, where much whining ensued. You see, there were lots of bees outside. The bees weren’t bothering me, but finally the whining got the best of me. We all gathered up our food and went inside. I sat down at the table, and immediatly went flying back up. A bee had flown up my dress and stung me right in my left cheek!!! I couldn’t sit on it for days. Would you like some wine with your bee???
That honey color is gorgeous. It looks like honey on a string. I wish I had a humorous bee story but I am of the alleric variety. I carry an epi pen with me and have to annually remind my coworkers that should I get stung they get to jab me with a needle. They are surprisingly ok with this. My family likes to sing “swell up and die” to the tune of Beethoven’s Fifth when the subject of bees comes up. That doesn’t stop me from admiring the beauty that is inherent in honeycomb and the lovely amber colors they produce.
I doubt this will be prize winner, but my bee story goes like this. I was sitting in my parent’s house talking to my friends on the phone. Where my parents live, there are lots of pig farmers (one of the reasons I don’t live there anymore), and therefore, lots of flies. The flies get my nerves, so I was always trying to squash them. So I’m talking on the phone and I felt a crawling sensation on my hand. Without looking, I quickly made a fist, and actually felt happy for a second that I caught this one. That happiness didn’t last long, because my hand immediately started to hurt like crazy. You guessed it, that wasn’t a fly, it was a BEE. Ouch!
Hee! It’s such beautiful yarn! Perfect for the shawl.
Bees. All I can think of is Dane Cook and his bee rant (“Who gets killed by bees???”) But then that makes me think of My Girl and how terrified of bees that movie made me (I’ve never been stung.) And then I think of how this guy Shane at my high school used to get honeycomb from a friend of his whose dad ran a beehive or bee farm or whatever…MAN that stuff is good when it’s doused in honey. And now I want a peanut butter and honey sandwich……
I have a bee story from just a few weeks ago: I have a bunch of wild sunflowers growing in my yard. I was watching all the bugs and birds and was mesmerized by this bee. I kept going closer and closer because it was this big giant bumblebee and it was so neat looking. When I was about a foot away, the bee slowly started to fly away and came toward me. I always stay very still around the bees. It moved so close to me I thought it was going to sit on my face or hair and I’m sure my eyes were crossed, but it just flew over to the next flower. Close encounter!
Here’s my bee story: My grandfather raised bees and we always had free honey, by the gallons, by the multi-gallons, honey and comb and more honey coming out your ears. My other non-bee raising grandfather always ate Sue Bee Spun Honey, a store bought commodity. I would beg for Sue Bee Honey to no end and eventually my poor mother, in a house that was overrun by free honey, would go down to the store and get the store bought honey. Now I really miss the gallon jugs of honey with fresh comb sitting on the shelves of our pantry. I grit my teeth and pay big bucks for home raised honey. It all comes around.
And I have to say, our home honey was the same golden color when the sun would hit those jugs in just the right angle as your beautiful yarn. It truely brought back a wonderful memory of honey in days gone by.
My “favorite” (a.k.a. most painful)and VERY TRUE Bee Story. I was trying to “stay pregnant” – always a challenge for me. It involved many daily self administered injections for the first 2 trimesters – PLUS – 2 bloodtests per week – AND I have very “hard to find my veins” kinda of arms. I had been going through this for a loooong time. Getting STUCK on a regular basis. On this day I was SO hoping to still be pregnant – I was on my way to the Dr. for the “heartbeat sonogram”. I got into my car and said a little prayer “If I am, give me a sign so I can just have some amount of comfort” – turned the key and put it in gear as I sat back in the seat – AND WAS PROMPTLY STUNG IN MY UPPER BACK BY 2 BEES THAT WERE SOMEHOW IN MY CAR!!!!! It hurt SOOOOO much – tears flowing I raced to the Dr. – she gave me ice and calmed me down…and then we listened to the heartbeat! And she said “I guess those bee stings were telling you that there were a lot more injections coming your way!” – Her name is Sophia and she is 6 years old now…
TRUE STORY!
I can’t believe you are giving away that luscious yarn! I’m so glad the contest is random – my only bee stories are pretty mundane. All I can think of is when I was about 7 I stepped on a bee – the beach my grandparents took me to had a large lawn, and at the bottom of the lawn ran a sidewalk with steps down to the beach. I played a lot on the lawn – and of course there were bees in the clover. After that, I was very careful to watch where I was stepping! The only other thing I can think of is the other day I was watching bees in some flowers near where I was sitting. A bee landed on my shirt and I got to watch him for a while. We blew gently on it and it flew off. For a little while this spring, we kept seeing bees just stopped on our window or railing for days, like they were dead, but they didn’t look squished and they didn’t fall off. Weird.
You wonderful woman you! A contest with the very most specialest prizes! OK bee story, short and sweet (no pun intended): When my 16 yr old was 3, she was stung by a bee square in the middle tip of her nose. It happened very fast and seeing it land on her and watching her eyes cross as she was stung cracked me up. Yep. I was hysterical and trying hard to hide it as I administered first aid. Great mom huh?
This isn’t really a “story,” but the bzzing of bees puts me to sleep instantly. As in, if I go outside to sit in the summer and several bees are floating pleasantly around, I wake up two hours later, groggy and with yuck in my mouth. They’ve never stung me either. I have a very soft spot for bees (though please don’t sting it!)
Also, have you read the Beekeeper’s Apprentice? It’s an excellent sherlock holmes novel, and bees come up in the very first chapter!
Bee story? Here you go:
I was 5 years old and had just started kindergarten. Innocent, cute, pigtails, navy blue and red plaid jumper, little white t-shirt, and a bright red cardigan that my grandmother had knit for me. My little red sweater was hanging on a hook in the coat room all day. When we were getting ready to go home, I reached for my sweater, slid my left arm into the sleeve and – WHAM – BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ – OUCH! Big ‘Ole Bumblee hiding in the sleeve. I still remember it like it was yesterday. It’s the reason why I will still scream like a little girl and run the other way when I see fat, fuzzy bumble bees.
Despite my fear of bees, I <3 that shawl.
oh honey honey! My secret is to use it pretty much as a sugar replacement. Your banana muffins, ham glazes and tea will never bee as sweet and golden brown
I have only one bee experience – I was stung exactly once in my life, while swimming. I’d gone some laps and was leaning on the lane separators, talking to someone in the next lane who’d also finished, and a bee zapped my arm! I always have thought it was ironic that with all the bug collecting I did as a kid, I had to go in the water to get stung.
I have a bee story for you. My 14, almost 15 year old daughter was stung by a bee just last week. I am not exaggerating when I say that for no less than 6 HOURS the girl cried and moaned and whimpered and cried (loudly) some more. She claimed it was the worst pain she has ever experienced. She also happens to be a major drama queen. π
I had a splitting headache by the time the crying finally stopped. Oy!
Ok… bad bee story…
One time, my brother was casually walking down the driveway when a bee flew into his ear… and got stuck there. He had to go to the hospital and got stung a lot in his ear… it was bad.
Oh, wow. The colors on that yarn are GORGEOUS!! Two bee stories. Years ago, when my now-husband and I were dating in college, I went to study abroad. We’d decided to meet halfway through the semester and go to Barcelona together. So there we were, supposed to be having this great weekend before we wouldn’t see each other again for who knew how long, and it was horrible! The city was under construction because the Olympics were coming, so everything was closed or blocked, or scaffolded. It rained the whole time. We had not idea how to order food there, and were constantly hungry. And there came a point when we were sitting on the beach in the rain, and we’d decided to break up because we weren’t sure whether he’d still be living in L.A. when I got home. And then, out of nowhere, a bee came up and stung me, completely at random, right on the neck, whereupon I swelled up like a balloon. Talk about messages from the universe! But, we got back together 15 minutes later, and have been for the past 18 years.
The other bee story I have is about a friend of mine who got up very early one morning before work to walk her dog (before 6 o’clock), and was accosted in the park by a reporter who wanted to know what she thought about killer bees for the morning news (?!). So there she was, in a hat and sweats, clutching her coffee like a life preserver, and all she could think of to say was, “I can think of better ways to die.” And they put her on the news!
Thanks for thinking of us π
In the year when I was 6 the summer was particularly humugity. One afternoon in August my father and grandfather were taking a water break on the porch. My grandfather was on the swing when a humungous bumblebee landed on his arm. I learned a lesson that day — if a bumblebee lands on you, just sit quietly, even if it stays for 25 minutes like that one did that day. The bee won’t sting you.(Tickle, maybe, but no sting!)
Oooh! That shawl is so pretty and both yarns you have are wonderful. Thank you for holding this nifty contest. I have enjoyed reading the bee stories. I can think of a few, as well as a naughty joke that involves bees. My entry will be a bee story. It was the church picnic. I was peering through the mesh of the pie tent while the judges made the rounds. As I reached the back, I felt pain. At first I thought it was a mosquito, as it had not gotten me well. I swatted and was stung two more times, the third time being the one which left me with an embedded stinger. The rest of the picnic was not so much fun. I do not even think I got to have a piece of pie, but was left on the blanket with ice packs.
can’t wait to see this shawl come alive for you! my bee story is just that i love bees- the big, fat bumbly-bees. every time i see one i stop what i’m doing and watch it up close as long as i can. they are just some of the most amazing creatures and really inspire me. pooh bear and honey pots, birds & bees :)- they are just fun to watch. oh yeah- i just rememebred a real story! over every summer i get about 10-12 random bugs that fly directly into my face. i can’t understand this, because they have about 800 facets to each eye and i’m a gazillion times larger than they are, but whatever. last summer when i was working at girl scout camp a huge bumblebee flew into my face. i didn’t know what it was and shooed it away. i was very happy that it was in a good mood and didn’t sting me. maybe it’s a mutual appreciation? i can only hope.
As you know I don’t need the kit but I have a bee story, sorta. Smith grew up in an old ‘farm house’. One summer they heard a constant hum in the walls and realized what was up when they saw honey dripping from a crack. They had to have the house exterminated to get rid of the bees (so sad!) and could smell the honey for some time to come.
I was always interested in why it’s called a “honeymoon”, so here is a little fun fact I googled:
The word “honeymoon” has its origins in the European tradition of a newlywed couple drinking honeyed wine (mead) each day for the first Moon (month) of their marriage, inferring that the first phase would be sweeter than the rest.
The honey color is gorgeous!
Bee story: I’m not allergic to bee stings, per se, but I do have a reaction. While in the Cascades for a geology field season, I apparently swung my rock hammer and managed to make a bee/wasp angry. It got me on the leg and I didn’t notice it until I got back to camp. My left thigh had swollen to the point where I looked like I only did squats/leg lifts on one side (it looked rather like a sad imitation of an Arnold-Schwarzenegger-type leg). I looked a bit unbalanced, and it lasted a week! I left geology shortly after and turned to the (somewhat) safer field of literature…
My last name is Bienenfeld…which translates to “Bees in the Field.” I have bees in my blood!
When I was a little girl, we were at a family reunion at the park. I never wore shoes (still don’t) and thus was running around barefoot! I stepped on a bee! My Dad, the clever man he is, immediately got some mud and packed it on my bee sting. It drew out the stinger and the venom! That is what I do now with my kids! Works like a charm!
Oh, and I love that yarn and pattern. Just beautiful!
Wow, that is gorgeous yarn! I agree with your analysis of the yarn, too…Tina certainly managed to get the full range of colors in honey! Yum! Anyway, my favorite bee story is from my third grade days when my entire class and the music department put on the play “Goin’ Buggy.” I was chosen to be the honeybee narrator (I had to audition and everything…I can still remember the nerves I felt while sitting there and waiting for my turn to read the lines!) and got to say a few lines including
“None of your beeswax!” I felt so important saying my own lines and wearing my little bee costume…So, it’s not a memory about a real bee, but it is the first thing that I think about when I think of bees and that memory still makes me smile! Thanks for the contest opportunity!
I too, have a recent bee story. Just this past Sunday, my four children and I were on our way home from church, windows down, music blasting, and bam! from nowhwere, a wasp(I think)stung me on the left side of my face. I screamed so violently, then swerved to get off the road. (After my 6 year old told me it was wrapped in my hair!) All of the kiddos started crying and screaming. I got home, put some ice on my face, took some benadryl. Unfortunately, the same evening I had to go to a wake for a dear friend. Besides going to the wake, the crappy part was, that I had not seen some of the people there in 16 years(including an ex!) Boy, as the day went on, my face swelled, so I was almost unrecognizable! Then by the end of the evening, my eye was swollen shut! Many didn’t know who I was! I did go to the docs on Monday, only to find out there wasn’t much I could do, but wait. Only today, Friday, my face is somewhat normal! Even as I write this, I get chills up my spine thinking of the “bee”! Can’t wait to see your finished bee, I bet it will be a real “stinger”!
I love the Oregon Red Clover Honey. Gorgeous.
Here’s my weird bee story. My father in law loves propolis, a bee product with antiseptic properties. He treats every possible ailment with homemade tincture, which he makes with vodka and propolis he smuggles illegally from Eastern Europe. Whenever he goes home, he comes back with his pockets filled with the stuff. According to him: (imagine a mild Slovak accent if you can) “if a mouse enters a beehive, the bees will immediately sting it to death. Because it is too big to remove, they will encase its body in propolis. This will perfectly preserve the mouse, preventing it from infecting the hive.” I don’t think this is true, but I like the tincture.
When I was still very young, we moved from Canada to the U.S. And all those people who say that Canada is just America with a C? They’re so, so very wrong. It smells different there. The same products taste different when they’re from there (and the beer is better, too!). The angle of the sun feels different, I just can’t describe it. Anyway, once we moved to the U.S., sometimes when we would go back to Canada to visit my grandparents, mom would go to the store and get a few things to take back home with us. These were special treats– Maypo, CoffeeCrisp, Beep, stuff like that.
I still remember one summer morning, coming down for breakfast after a weekend when we had visited my grandparents, and my brothers and I sat down to have toast. And we were all thrilled when mom put a (wooden) box of honeycomb down! She had gotten it from a farm stand in Tecumseh, where she went to get tomatoes. We could have eaten it all in one sitting if she had let us. It was so neat to wipe our knives across the comb, watching the cells break open and the honey pour out, and spreading it all on our buttery toast. Then eating the sticky sweetness, and savouring the slightly chewy clumps of waxy comb. And the best part, it tasted like Canada. I can still see every detail. And I was, maybe 6? 7? In my mind, I can still smell the buttery toast and the cloying sweetness of the honeycomb. *Sigh*
Beautiful yarn and pattern. The color is gorgeous. The bee stories are all great. My bee story: When my dear Sheltie, Tiffany, was a puppy, she loved to follow me around in the garden. She’d get very close to the flowers as if taking a sniff. When she noticed the bees in the garden, she tried catching them with her mouth as they’d alight from the flowers. One afternoon, she stuck her nose too close to a bloom and was stung on the tip of her nose. Did it swell!!! The vet advised 1/2 aspirin, she was fine in a day or two. She never could leave the bees alone though, even after getting stung!
Beautiful stuff! I love, love honey — the smell, taste, color, texture. Here’s my bee story: I once worked with a woman who was a beekeeper, and she ordered her bees through the mail! I was amazed to learn this. Sometimes she would order a new queen and it just came in a little box, but sometimes she would order a large amount of bees. Needless to say, the post office called her IMMEDIATELY when they received these shipments, and she had to drop everything and go pick them up. I love the idea of beekeeping (although I am deathly afraid of stinging creatures), and bees are so important and currently in crisis. The Bee Fields Shawl is a well-deserved tribute!
The Oregon Red Clover is amazing – absolutely spot on.
My favorite (ie only) bee story is the only time I’ve been stung. I was living in Oregon for the summer and had been planning on going camping with the guy I was dating and 2 friends who had come to visit. I went to a party the night before, and so was hungover when we set out. Add to the mix there had been some friction between me and my ex regarding the fact I was dating to someone, and I was literally not a happy camper. The group shot of us from that trip shows me leaning as far from the boy as possible π When we were done enjoying nature and hiking back out, I saw a small black streak zoom towards my arm and I was stung. All the frustration of the weekend boiled up and I started crying about how much I hated camping as he tried to extract the sting.
Looking back, I’m amazed he didn’t just turn around and leave me there π And why I didn’t just let go and enjoy the trip!
My name is Barbara, and my best friend’s daughter has nicknamed me “Ant Bee”. π
I’ve been stung by a bee only ONCE in my entire life. I was… maybe 7 or 8 years old at the time. And do you know where the bee stung me??? On the upper eyelid of my left eye! Oh, I was a sight to behold for weeks, that much is for sure.
I remember my little brother asking if he could have the bee out of a new pot of honey when he was about four. He thought that if there was a peanut at the top of the peanut butter there should be a bee at the top of the honey for peanut butter and honey sandwiches.
My grandfather has a hive of honeybees in one of his oak trees this year. It’s great for the gardens of everyone in the neighborhood (he no longer has a garden himself), and I’m delighted he has let it stay put given the mysterious (and frightening) disappearance of many honeybees across North America in the last couple of years.
Also, I knit my son a bee costume for Halloween when he was a year old. Should I win this kit, I’ll try to find a photo I can share of that along with a photo of the finished Bee Fields shawl. My, but that’s a beautiful pattern.
They say clothes hung to dry on the clothesline are the best? My mom used to hang out ALL of our clothes. One evening when I was about 10 I was getting ready for bed and slipping into a pair of flannel pjs when I felt something crawling around. I started screaming and jumping around. A bee was in my sleeve! It had been there all afternoon since my mom had folded the clothes from the line. It is hard to believe I didn’t get stung! Can’t wait to see your finished work! This color is perfect!
When Joseph was 2 or 3, he stepped on a bee and immediately lost his mind with the freaking out. My French pharmacist friend was visiting, and made me restrain Joseph (sitting in the adirondack chair) while he tweezed out the stinger, very calmly and professionally but very slowly, considering the screaming. Joseph. Was. A. Mess. When the stinger was out, I ran him over to the hammock to rock him. By the time I got to the hammock, he was ASLEEP.
My own near-bee story is about my grandpa, who was a stone mason (which is important to the story). I was around 8, swinging on the swingset, which was not well attached to the ground, so it bumped up and down if you swung high, which of course was the whole point of swinging. Unbeknownst to any of us, a city of wasps had built a nest in the steel tube at the top of the swingset, and they flew out, in their thousands, to attack the girl who was literally rocking their world. I ran shrieking into my grandparents’ back door, in a cloud of wasps, who were stinging me like crazy. My grandpa, who never spoke unless necessary and didn’t find it necessary to speak at this time, went out back, turned on the hose, and flushed the wasps out of the swingset (without the slightest concern for whether they would sting him or not, and they didn’t). Then he mixed up a bucket of cement (always on hand), and trowelled in into the tube on both ends. I watched through the screen door, as my arms and neck swelled with stings. I have never felt so protected. “Do not mess with this girl, or you will be destroyed.”
Having said ALL this, do not waste this lovely shawl kit on the likes of ME. I’m not there, yet! xoxo Kay
I have a Bee story I heard second hand involving my son (then 16) and my brother. They were at an SCA event in the wilds of California, sitting around a camp fire, hours away from civilization, when my son took a sip of his Dr. Pepper. When he discovered the lump in the soda he went to spit it out and was stung on the tongue by a bee. Luckily he is not allergic, although we didn’t really know that till now because he had never been stung before. Well my son spit the bee out but the stinger was still in his tongue, so my brother in all his manly wisdom pulled it out with a handy pair of pliers he just happened to have lying around. Everything turned out fine, but my son won’t drink soda from a can anymore when we are camping.
By the way I love your blog and I am so impressed with your photographing skills.
I have a Bee story I heard second hand involving my son (then 16) and my brother. They were at an SCA event in the wilds of California, sitting around a camp fire, hours away from civilization, when my son took a sip of his Dr. Pepper. When he discovered the lump in the soda he went to spit it out and was stung on the tongue by a bee. Luckily he is not allergic, although we didn’t really know that till now because he had never been stung before. Well my son spit the bee out but the stinger was still in his tongue, so my brother in all his manly wisdom pulled it out with a handy pair of pliers he just happened to have lying around. Everything turned out fine, but my son won’t drink soda from a can anymore when we are camping.
By the way I love your blog and I am so impressed with your photographing skills.
you are always such an inspiration…and i love the bee stories.
here’s mine–when my sister was a little girl she was spending the night with my grandparents. my nana always treated us to whatever we wanted…especially sweets. well, as you can imagine, my sis over did it and got a tummy ache. she ended up in bed early and had a fitful night of bad dreams, one of which was particularly vivid. as she tells it, she dreamed that she was getting a fancy dress hemmed and the seamstress kept sticking her while she was pinning it. when she woke up there were 2 dead bees in the bed. it’s one of her clearest childhood memories.
I can’t say that it’s my favorite bee story, but it’s probably my only bee story.
My daughter got her first bee sting when she was only 6 months old. My sister was holding her while she napped, and a little sweat bee stung Anna while they were sitting there. My sis was so worried that Anna would never forgive her!
My friends and I are big into theme parties. Way, way big. It’s just not a party if there’s not a ridiculous theme to accompany it, demanding creative costumes and hilarious intrepations — last week, for example, my house hosted a Gay Pride party, and six of my friends showed up as the Gay Pride rainbow. Perfect, no?
Last year we had a “It’s a Killer Party!” party — where the theme was to come as your favorite killer. A guy put on a cow costume for Mad Cow, my friend William brought a box of cereal for a serial killer, etc. etc. — but my favorite costume of the night had to be my friends Danny and Lauren, who showed up to the party as Killer Bees — except that the costume store didn’t have bee costumes, just lady bugs. So they showed up as killer ladybugs, with fake blood all over their faces and ninja stars. KILLER LADYBUGS!
Oh my *god* I am buying that BMFA yarn the instant I finish commenting here. Good lord, woman.
Bee story! Well, yellow-jackets, but close enough. I’ve never been stung, but my closest call came when I was about 8 or 9, playing “rock star band” on some old wood pallets out back with my younger brother and the neighbors. Andy was lead guitar, the neighbors were drums and keyboards (this was the 80s, remember), and I was the lead singer, complete with Aqua-Net hair. While we were jumping up and down and giving our own heartfelt rendition of “Back in Black”, Andy somehow landed on a hidden yellowjacket’s nest. I didn’t notice what was going on for almost a minute, because our version of the song included a lot of screaming already, but after a few seconds everyone started running away, so I did too.
Andy, the comic from a young age, said I didn’t get stung because lead singers have to be pretty. π
My dad can’t eat sugar, but can handle honey without a problem, so growing up I never realized that a lot of my mom’s cooking was influenced by that, and so I had to try many foods over again with sugar and figure out which ones I liked which ways – not a bee story… but, it was interesting growing up with (big) buckets of honey always in the house!
…I also recently finished wing of moth, and look forward to doing this one too, I’ll have to order it soonish if I don’t win…
I used to play softball quite competitively, but my one downfall was that I was a slow runner. I was a pitcher, so I didn’t have to do much running assuming I could really mess with a batter’s mind and get them to strike out :oP One game, it happened to be at a national tournament, I had to bat because our designated hitter had a major injury from the last game. I got up to the plate, looked down, and there was a bumblebee on my leg.
I’m deathly afraid of bumblebees, although any other bee is fine with me. I saw the pitch come and it was the perfect thing to hit, so I swung, half looking at the ball, half at the bee. I hit the ball, but my bat during my follow through knicked the bee. The bee, who was not happy about this, was doing a good job of chasing me down the first base line. I ran faster than I think I had ever run and actually made it to first before the ball got there. The darned bee ended up stinging me, which sucks, but my team from that day forward would make a buzzing noise whenever I had to bat, hoping that it would make me run faster :oP
When my son was about 3 we were at the swimming pool and he somehow put his arm down on a bee, not the bumble bee type .. the skinnier ones. Anyway, he howled and as I ran over to see what was up he stood up and began marching around the pool saying “Damned bee BIT me!!” about 50 times. The entire pool group were dying laughing. Only bee story I know..and I LOVE the pattern and the yarn both. Don’t know how you could have one witout the other…
My favorite bee story is about my youngest daughter. She is 5 and very petite for her age. Everyone always assumes she is maybe 3… Last year she started ballet and during her ballet recital they did a dance where all the girls were bees. It was so adorable! And so funny to see all these little girls buzzing around the stage…Of course, my little bumblebee was the most adorable π
When I was little, I was was was known as pretty spunky. I’d climb up trees, jump off swings and pretty much run around until my mom called me in for the day. One day, I was playing with one of my good friends from up the street in the backyard. We were jumping off the swings into the yard…well it would have been the yard had there not been so much clover in the area! Here I am, about five or six years old, and I jump feet-first into a patch of clover in the middle of summer. Ooops. Let it be known that I was unaware of the sting of bees until this point. I start to wail, and my mom comes running. She looks outside and sees me on one foot, crying, with Tony calmly taking out the stinger and telling me I’ll be fine. Sure enough, stinger out and foot back to normal, I was back running around within the hour. It’s still one of my mom’s favorite stories.
We had a pool when I was a kid and one summer afternoon, a Sunday, the whole family was relaxing by the pool. Everyone had sodas and a beer for my dad. A bee had crawled inside the can for a sip just before my father took a sip. The startled bee stung him on the upper lip. His whole face stated to swell. So much so that he looked like Richard Nixon without hair. Since it was late Sunday afternoon–4ish–there were no drug stores/supermarkets/doctor’s offices open. We drove ALL over town trying to find someplace to buy Benedryl. We finally found it at an Eckard Drug that was *just* about to close to buy it. We still have the “I am not a crook” phot of my father as Richard Nixon.
I’m a new reader, I love your blog by the way, your photography and knitting are so inspiring!
My bee story is this: When I was about 12 years old, some family friends came over, and my Mom told us to go out and play. Since my sister was best friends with the girl of the family who was close to her age. The oldest boy was my age, and he had a much younger brother. Of course being the girl that I was, I didn’t have too many boy related toys to play with, so we were investigating our fort that was basically a very well supported section on top of a huge Rhododendron bush behind my dads wood pile….Unfortunately for our friends, I had gone up first, stomping on a bee’s nest in the ground. They came up behind me, and ended up in a cloud of angry bees. Sorry guys, I think between the two of them they had over twenty bee stings, and I didn’t even get one.
My husband, the love of my life, is a World Champion Skeet Shooter. From the time I met him, he has always worn a certain bumble bee pin on his shooting vest. I asked him about it because it is the only adornment on his vest. When he was in high school, he was invited to try out for the Olympic team. Before he left, one of his teachers gave him the pin because, as you may or may not know, bumble bees are not supposed to be able to fly. Their body weight is more than their wings/wing span should support…but…they do fly…so against all odds, when they aren’t expected to succeed, they do! Awwwwwww…what a sweet story…besides, next month is our 17th wedding anniversary…wouldn’t it BEE great to win????
One honey memory, one bee-sting.
1– When I was growing up, we lived in a house built in 1906. It had a coal furnace in the basement, and a 3-foot square heater register above it. Somehow, my mother acquired a 5-gallon tin of honey that had totally solidified, so we sat it on the heater register to melt. It took weeks. But it was a nice place to sit when you were chilly!
2– August 2005 was my brother’s wedding. It was held in his in-laws’ backyard. I got stung by a bee, and it HURT! Kinda put a damper on the day, but now they are pregnant and I hope they have a sweet lil one in December.
If you would like to try some fantastic Tupelo honey, check out our area purveyor, The Savannah Bee Company:
http://www.savannahbee.com/
That yarn is breathtaking! I love it. And here’s my bee story… (well it’s more about honey, but they’re related, right?)
When my hubby and I were getting married we were appalled at all the cheesy “gifts” that were offered for us to give to our guests. At the time, the hubby was doing a lot of beer brewing and we had tried a small batch of mead (kinda like honey-wine), which came out great. We did some research into mead, and apprently it was traditionally given to newleywed couples to “ensure a fruitful marriage,” and help in the process of getting pregnant withing the first month. And this is where the “honeymoon” came from – becuase they would get a “moon” worth (one month) of honey wine! Cute, eh?
So hubby and I treked down to Pike’s Place Market and bought a few GALLONS of local honey (they thought we were crazy), and made up a giant batch of mead, which we then bottled up and gave to our guests! It was super fun and everyone loved it.
My favorite bee was my Grandma B. She emigrated here from Ireland at the turn of the last century with her sister, and put herself through the nursing program at Sydenham Hospital, which was in the Morningside Heights section of Manhattan (sort of West Harlem to those of you from out of town, bordering Columbia U.) In any event, “B” ‘s real name was Bridget, but in an effort to become more “American”, she decided to call herself “Beatrice”; that way she could still be called “B”. Of course, her Irish brogue was not as easily eradicated so I am sure no one mistook her for a homegrown Yankee! Anyhow she spent her nursing wages on a tiny little house in Dutchess County NY’s farmland (reminiscent of Ireland), raised three boys and had a lovely life making handmade quilts, canned peaches, and blancmange for dessert with berries.
Love the color and the pattern. Here is one of my bee stories. When I was a teenager I loved to garden and grew many flowers and vegetables. The soil was so soft I would often go into the garden without shoes. One day I stepped on a bee. It stung me before dying. When I examined my foot I could still see the stinger pulsating. I quickly removed the stinger and was suprised that my foot never swelled up. I still occasionally go barefoot, but when I am around my flowers I make sure to have something on my feet.
I don’t really have a bee story, but I love peanut butter and honey sammiches, and I think the kit is glorious!
I grew up on an island in SE Alaska and we didn’t go shopping a ton. Well, I was eight or so and we went to the toy store, rather a store with toy section, and we were looking at legos and I felt something pinch me on my calf. I rolled up my pants and I’d been stung by a bee. Just amazing that such a thing could happen and I’ve survived to tell the tale.
I truly love the shawl and the designer!
That is some stunning yarn, and the pattern is genius.
My bee story – we have a family cottage. My one sister in law has led a somewhat sheltered life, nd had never been “exposed to bees” (her words). Hard to believe, but true. She married to my husband’s brother, and we were all up north one weekend. My husband got stung by a bee. No biggie, it happens. While I am trying to remove the stinger (with the credit card method – it works!), SIL is hovering around, freaking out, and basically, melting down. Then she stops, stands still, and says, quite anxiously, “Does it hurt? Becasue if it does, I’m leaving, NOW!” In order for her (and hubby’s brother) to ever set foot back there, we had to convince her that bee stings do NOT hurt. She calmed down, and to this day (14 years later) she still thinks bee stings do not hurt. I only shudder to think of what’s going to happen if her kids ever get stung…
That yarn you inspired is so, so beautiful. You must feel so powerful. “Hey, make this!” And then, there it is. That photo of the cake-comb is particularly stunning.
My bee stories are super mundane. Honey, however… I have very fond feelings toward honey. My grandmother used to give me the old spoonful of honey with lemon in it to help ease the pain of the chronic sore throats I had as a kid. And it fills me with a very specific kind of peace thinking about that. Later in life, I must sheepishly admit, my fondness for honey has become almost entirely based on its sensual properties. Let’s just leave it at that.
My bee story…
I was about 8 and we were walking through the woods in Mendocino where my great-Aunt lived. I was keeping an eye out for bees, the kind that live in the ground, I forget are those wasps? I found a nest and carefully walked as faar around it as I could. And yet I still angered the bees and two flew up my pants leg. One was stinging my leg and the other burrowed into my innie bellybutton and was repeatedly stinging me. I jumped out of my pants and my stepmom had to pull the bee out of my bellybutton with her fingernails. I was too freaked out to put my pants back on until we got back to the house.
When I was little we had two girls who lived next door and they used to come over the play, but they had to stay together, so if one went home the other one had to as well. One day we were outside and the older girl sat on a bee, and well, it stung her, so she went running home crying, with us chasing after her begging her to stay because we didn’t want to have to break up our fun.
Well, it’s almost a bee story. Last year my city was overtaken by wasps. I have never seen anything quite like it. I worked in an open concession at a beach so you can imagine that we attracted lots of them. We could put out a trap and get 20 in as many minutes. Just before they really started I was working with another guy, just the two of us. He couldn’t cook, just cash, so I was stuck unable to leave for breaks unless the managers son ever walked by to let me go for a minute. I was ridiculously hot and when the customers started to fade I told him I was going into the back room to eat a popsicle, I’d made some fries and if no one ordered hot food he wasn’t to call me short of him dying. I could’ve killed him when not a thirty seconds into the popsicle he starts screaming for me to come and kill a wasp because he’s too scared. It was a loooooong summer.
Every year, one of my favorite exhibits at the State Fair is the Bees & Honey area. There are beeswax crafts made by children, and a photography competition, bee demonstrations, a glassed-in hive to watch, honey samples and honey ice cream!
We found out that I was allergic to bees the hard way. When I was in 5th grade, my dad was taking me to school, and a bee stung me in the cheek. No one thought anything about it.. it hurt, but I was a whiny kid, so off to school we went. By the time we pulled up to the front doors, my cheek was the size of a grapefruit. Needless to say, there was no school for me that day.
Ooh, both those yarns are amazing! I can’t wait to see the finished product. I don’t have any good bee stories, except that I have never been stung by a bee in my long 29 years of life.
Oh, I did think of another story, in my family’s old house which was in a pretty remote, wooded area, there was a yellowjacket (I guess those aren’t bees, but close enough) nest somewhere in the roof or chimney or something, and at the end of every summer all these dying bees would fall down the chimney into the fireplace in my parents’ bedroom. So there’d be all these dying, pissed off yellowjackets crawling all over the floor for about a month and my dad would have to go around gooshing them all (nobody else wanted to do it!). It was gross. Pretty amazing that I managed to not get stung at all, even in that house.
Funny thing about timing. I have a bee story from just two weeks ago. My husband and I threw a thank you BBQ for about 20 leaders of our Boy Scout Troop. They’re the people you can always count on to help no matter what the event or what you ask of them. So we wanted to say thanks to our unsung heroes. One of the couples offered to bringover their outdoor table and chairs. She put the table in her SUV and drove to our house. My husband got the table out of the car and as he turned it over a swarm of bees flew out of the umbrella tube and he got stung about 10 times. He’s such a good “Boy Scout” that he refused to drop the table and just let it happen. Fortunately it was him and not me…I am so allergic to bees that I’d have spent the party in the ER! Needless to say I got the bee spray and cleared out the tube. There was a huge nest in it. Love that yarn, by the way. They’re both gorgeous!
my favorite bee story?
I love that yarn and want it to make the bee shawl.
the end.
My bee story is about the first time I helped to put new queens in a friend’s beehives. Two out of three had lost their queens, and we were replenishing them with queens that had just arrived in the mail. I was a masters student in conservation biology at the time, and it was *wonderful* to actually spend time in and with nature rather than just reading about it and writing papers.
We watched the drones tap, tap, tap the queen as she was in her protected box, and then got ready to visit the hives. Protective clothing all over, including the wonderfully funny hat, and we both carried smoke puffers to keep any rambunctious bees away. I loved watching my friend pry up the edges of the hive (glued together with propolys or bee glue) to see the action inside. We inspected the cells full of honey and made sure that everyone inside was doing well.
It was an incredibly peaceful, caring way to spend the afternoon. No stings, just lovely smells of honey and woodsmoke and the amazing sight of bees flying all around, doing what they do so very well!
alas no good bee stories here! Just a bee freak my name in Hebrew is D’vora (means bee)and has kind of been a lifelong fascination with them because of this. I definitely have more bee stuff then any one person should but I do need this pattern a bee shawl is highly appropriate for a bumble bee girl π
Hi Cara ~ I have only been stung by a bee once in my life and will never forget it. I was in a little park a couple houses down from my childhood home, probably in my tween years. I stepped on a bee and conveniently sat immediately on the concrete bench nearby to watch the bee, still attached, struggle to extract itself from my heel. I waited until it stopped moving to start hopping on one foot back to my house for my mom to put some wet tobacco on it “to take the sting out.” The bee fell out en route, but she had to tweeze the stinger out. Not too thrilling, but it’s all I’ve got!
PS> Today is Wooly Wonka Anne’s birthday!
Delurking because I can’t resist a chance to win that gorgeousness.
My bee story is more of a lesson in natural history. Did you know that figs and fig wasps (not actually bees, but most people don’t differentiate) are so closely coevolved that each species of fig is pollinated by a single species of wasp, and each species of wasp harvests the pollen of only one species of fig? None can survive without its partner. A fun biology fact to know and tell.
I don’t have a bee story, except that I am already up to row 52 on the shawl in Buckwheat Honey and you are going to force me to order the Oregon Honey, honey!
my bee story is a bit of a doozy… I was 9, at girl scout camp. we were all sitting around singing songs after lunch. I felt something by my ear. I scratched. then I felt a BURNING SEARING HORRIFIC pain. apparently a bee had crawled INTO my ear and stung me way, way down in my ear canal. They had to try for nearly an hour to get the stinger out, and then poured peroxide into my ear. and I couldn’t hear through that ear for a week because of the swelling.
Stupid bees.
And yet? I love honey, and am totally loving the bee shawl.
My favorite bee story? My dad raised honey bees in our backyard in the 1960s. He’d dress in white “beekeepers hat” and netting and pull out the trays with the comb and honey dripping, bees clinging to it, break it off and drop pieces into canning jars, then walk away from the hives with the jars open as the bees remaining on the comb made their way back to freedom and the hive…I’m deathly allergic to bees, but the beekeepers’ dance was entrancing. I thought my father was the bravest man in the world!
And then our city passed an ordinance making it illegal to keep bees in the city limits.
I haven’t seen a honey bee in the city in years…it’s why Anne’s pattern, and the yarn are so special!
(((hugs)))
My favorite bee story isn’t mine. There’s a book called Angels Crest by Leslie Schwartz, most of which is a really heartbreaking story anout losing a little boy. However, there’s a character in there who keeps bees, and she loves them and checks the hives in the winter and one time, because of a mistake she’s made, a colony is dying and she has to kill the queen.
This is the second time I’ve recounted this honey-related story on someone’s bog this week, here goes: I was living in Marrakech with my then in-laws. My FIL was a very important, imposing sort, NOT the kind of person you say ‘no’ to. I was taking the bus to Rabat and he made me take a gigantic jar of honey with me for the relatives (Moroccans are obsessed with bringing gifts to one another, it’s totally mandatory). So I put the jar of honey in the luggage rack above the seats, and at some point it started slowly dripping on the passengers below who started shrieking and panicking. One woman in particular became completely hysterical. A huge melee ensued and the bus driver pulled the bus over and demanded to know whose honey it was…because I was terrified, you can imagine that I didn’t say a word!! When we arrived, the woman who had the honey all over her decided that she had a right to it, so she took it. Greatest humiliation: I arrived empty handed, but everyone had a huge laugh at my expense, so I guess it was worth the trauma…
Ooo, so beautiful.
Hmm, favorite bee story. That would probably be the time that the bee got in my friend’s coke can and stung her on the tongue when she tried to drink it.
I’ve only been stung by a bee once, but in a more normal way. I did, however, have a wasp fly into my shoe while I was walking. I was wearing jellies (it was the 80s) and they flip-flopped a bit as I walked. It flew in between my heel and the shoe. I stepped back down and it stung me on my heel. I got it good, though.
I didn’t think I had a bee story, but this just came to me (boring as it may be). Last time we were in Arizona, we sat on the front patio and watched a bee for about 10 minutes…just buzzing from flower to flower was somehow fascinating.
I’m not a great storyteller, but my favorite honey-related memory is from my wedding. My husband and I are traditional in a non-traditional sense in that we incorporated a lot of traditions that mean a lot to us into our wedding, but which aren’t really typically American traditional. One of them was based partly off the original meaning of a “honeymoon” (which I see someone has already posted about, so I won’t repeat it), and my intended’s dislike of most champagne. We approached our caterer (also a very dear friend of ours) and asked if we could bring in our own beverage for the toast, and he agreed as long as the transaction took place through him (for legal reasons). We agreed and asked another dear friend, who is also a master brewer, if he would be willing to brew us enough honey mead to use in place of the champagne for our toasts, and even more, if he could work through our caterer friend to arrange delivery. Doug brewed us one keg of an absolutely divine vanilla mead and another of an exquisite berry mead which was served to our guests for the toasts. The mead apparently loosened a few tongues because we had no fewer than a dozen toasts from our friends and family throughout the course of the meal, and while I don’t remember them all verbatim anymore, just remembering the feeling of love and support suffusing the room is enough to make even my darkest moods lighten and remind me how truly sweet my life is.
As a little girl, my grandfather used to keep bees on his farm in NH. I have vivid memories of him in his gear making silly noises and flaring the net around the hat, giggling in the strawberries as we gathered honey for breakfast. Even after my grandparents moved from their house to a small apartment, my grandfather kept bottling honey for me, a bottle here and there. When I left for college after he died, I took the last bottle with me. It lived in my cupboard until my roommate, trying to make pancakes, thought it was store bought and used it to cook. I came home and found the empty bottle in the sink, draining after its rinse. I was totally heartbroken and sometimes, still really ache for it, but the empty bottle sits quietly on my bookshelf, a sweet reminder of a man who loved me so much he used to put honey on my toast in the mornings.
Looooove that honey colour. It’s the golden-ness that really makes it. Rich too.
On to my bee story:
My partner’s work got a new mascot costume back in May. It was (of course) a bee, named Barnabee, for their school program called “StudyBuzz”. One day, my friend Nessa and I wanted to do a photo shoot in a park and my partner Jon decided to bring the bee costume along. He was happy enough to jump into this costume and just play around! We got crowds and crowds of people from kids to even adults. This one guy even wanted to piggy back Barnabee!!!
Some photos found here: http://marydotmusic.livejournal.com/135339.html
Plus we were able to get a photoshoot of Barnabee knitting, since our knitting group is called “The Bitchy Bees”: http://community.livejournal.com/bitchybees/2007/05/07/ (We’re not really bitchy, it was a mashup of stitch ‘n bitch and knitting bee.) π
My favorite bee story is from when I was about 4 and my older sister was 7. We were playing in the pool, and there was a bee nearby. I was terrified, so my sister got out and went to shoo it away. She was stung in the process. She was so tough about it, and I thought she was the bravest person I had ever known. (I still often think that about her). I often remember this story and feel so blessed to have an older sister who took care of me then, and continues to take care of me now.
The honey yarn is beautiful! And the Bee . . . gorgeous.
We have a funny bee story in our family. When I was a teenager, my family went on a vacation to Indiana. We were in the Indianapolis Zoo – an amazing zoo with all the big, scary animals people want to see. Near the bear exhibit, my mother started thrashing around and yelling, “HE BIT ME! HE BIT ME!” Zoo workers and security people came running. Curious onlookers gathered. My father grabbed my mother and shouted, “What bit you?” My mother whimpered, “A bee! A bee!” Very embarrassing.
This isn’t very interesting but here’s mine. I always avoided bees because I had never been stung by one and because I hadn’t, I didn’t know if I’d have an allergic reaction if I was. Finally a few years ago I was stung and I immediately looked around to see if anyone was close enough to help me if I went into shock. (Ok a bit paranoid!) Nothing happened so now I don’t have to worry anymore.
Funny you should ask about bee stories… at the beginning of the week I was traveling doing a workshop and my Bunny (age 4.5) as in day camp. Each evening I called and was told that all was well. Yesterday Bunny says, “I got my first bee sting while you were away!” Suddenly panicking I asked him about it. “It hurt for a while, but I got ice, a sting pad, and a sticker. I didn’t want you to worry.” So sweet, and I guess we know he’s not allergic to bee stings!!
That is damn fine looking yarn . . . I wanted to lick the screen or at least wipe a biscuit on it. Okay, bee story. I’ve been pretty fortunate with bee stings as they don’t bother me, but I know that others aren’t that lucky. One of my former students was deathly allergic to them and as such had to have an Epi Pen with him where ever we went. So, we are on our third field trip for the year and were eating outside. There were bees so we moved inside. We always traded times with the medicine bags and I said to my co-worker, “Good thing Chris didn’t get stung, otherwise you would have had to jab him with the Epi Pen.” He looks at me and comments that it wouldn’t be that bad. When I described the process to him, knowing full well that he hates needles (like couldn’t even talk to me when I was getting a flu shot), he fainted in the middle of ten sixth graders. They never forgot.
I love the color and can’t wait to see more of the bee shawl.
Bee story: One summer I went hiking with my cousins. On the way back down the trail, my cousin J stepped on a yellow jacket nest. I was right behind her and got the brunt of the attack. The most memorable sting was directly underneath my eye, and the stinger remained. My boy scout cousin P had to remove it with makeshit tweezers made from twigs.
That yarn is absolutely gorgeous!
I have a favourite bee-keeper story: my husband and I brew mead (honey wine) and had gone on a lovely country drive to find a new apiary for some honey. When we found the charming little farm, the beekeepers were a truly delightful young family, husband, wife, and toddler all looked as if they stepped out of some early 20th century film. They were so happy and helpful, he gabbing with my husband about honey ales and mead-making, she giving me little samples. Best of all, the honey was still warm, as it had just come fresh from the honey-extractor! We were only there to buy honey in bulk, but instead we’d found an amazing little family business, and I still remember them and that day fondly.
I love this shawl, but I have to admit that for a while I was torn about making it because I am terrified of bees!
When I was ten I was in my backyard playing and felt a prick on the bottom of my bare foot. I picked it up calmly to pull out whatever I’d stepped on, and saw a bee hanging there! I shreeked bloody murder. My father crossed the yard in about two steps, scooped me up, and got rid of the bee and the stinger.
This was the day before we were leaving for a month-long camping trip. For at least 2 weeks, I thought I could still feel the stinger in my foot, so every evening, my dad would dig around in my foot with a needle, trying to get the rest of the stinger out.
I still don’t go barefoot.
(I’ve since learned that traumatized nerves often bunch up into a hard little knot, and I suspect that was what I really felt in my foot that summer.)
When I was a teen, I worked at Watkins Woolen Mill State Historic Park in the summer as a tour guide and living history demonstrator. Right next to the house are reproductions of the beehives that the Watkins family kept in the 1800’s. The unused boxes are about half the size of a modern hive box and they sit on wooden rails. Now, we had a lot of strange questions from city folk, but my favorite will always be (pointing to the hive boxes) ‘Are those chicken/squirrel houses?’
My first year of grad school I lived in a falling-down, mouldy old southern shack buried behind pecan trees and bamboo, and the bugs were everywhere. I was standing in my doorway talking to my friend/fellow grad student/next-door neighbour one day and watching the fat, fuzzy bumblebees buzz around. A few went into my roof and I remarked that they must have a nest up there. My friend said, “oh those are carpenter bees, they’ll tear your house down!”.
Pete and I still joke about that when we see bumblebees around our backyard flowers. Omigod, carpenter bees! They’ll tear our house down! We thought it was really funny, and that my friend was cracked. But apparently there really are carpenter bees. These weren’t them, though.
When I was a teen, I worked at Watkins Woolen Mill State Historic Park in the summer as a tour guide and living history demonstrator. Right next to the house are reproductions of the beehives that the Watkins family kept in the 1800’s. The unused boxes are about half the size of a modern hive box and they sit on wooden rails. Now, we had a lot of strange questions from city folk, but my favorite will always be (pointing to the hive boxes) ‘Are those chicken/squirrel houses?’
My story is kind of lame, but here goes:
I’ve only been stung by a bee once. I sat on it. It stung me on the butt. End of story.
The only time I’ve ever been stung by a bee is while I was SLEEPING. I woke up in the middle of the night because something wasn’t right, reached down to my thigh, felt something TERRIBLE sticking out of my leg (poor bugger was still attached, somehow), and began to scream. My husband, still essentially asleep, rolled over, plucked it from my leg, tossed it to the side of the bed, bear hugged me, and immediately went back to sleep.
He’s my honey, he is.
All of my bee stories revolve around getting stung. Barefeet or sandals, bees always sting my toes! Maybe I’d better knit me some Monkeys.
Love the bee shawl and especially love the honey yarn!
Ooooooh, that Honey yarn is sooooo pretty.
My bee story? Gosh, I have more bat stories than bee stories. But the very first bee I ever met was a giant black & yellow bumblebee, and apparently my form of introduction was poor, because I was clambering around in my parents’ VW Bus (totally a clone from Little Miss Sunshine, minus the horn issues) and I guess I was rolling across the drivers’ seat and my forearm smushed said bee. He stung me, I was shocked, my mother connected the dots, and I had a healthy fear/respect for them ever since. And I always sympathized with Ferdinand the Bull, when he accidentally sat on one.
I have less of a story than a general wondering : am I the only one who freaks out, runs and hides from anything that even remotely looks or sounds like a bee, except for the big fuzzy bumblebees which for some reason I think are remarkably cute?
my bee story is funny to me but not my big sis….when i was about 5 my sister (who was about 10 at the time) took me to the big playground at the nearby school. i was just sitting on the grass when all of a sudden i got stung by a bee. my sister rushed me home. the first thing my dad did was scold my sister for not watching the bee! we still laugh about dad’s silly scolding!
Here is my current bee-predicament: I have lots and lots of lavendar that WAS supposed to go into honey and ice cream just before the blooms started popping (best flavor then). But we had a heat-wave that coincided with a camping trip that took us out of town, so when I returned I found all the lavendar had exploded into bloom. And the bees, the bees were ecstatic. tumbling over each other and all the flowers, they are STILL swarming the patch and I just can’t interrupt that exquisite scene. I guess we will have to content ourselves with the second flush of flowers, the bees get these!
I never win anything, but here goes. I grew up with 15 acres of orchard (pears and cherries) around my house, and every spring the bee man would come with hives of his prolific pollinators to ensure our crops for the year. I loved the sound of the low humming during those weeks that the bees were there. It was just the sound of life going on and it is still one of my most favorite sounds.
I’ve got bunches of bee stories for some reason, so I’ll just kind of lump some together and count it as one entry.
I have an aversion to bees (except beautiful lacy ones, of course π ) that I seem to have passed on to my son. Mine started when I was about twelve or so and walking in the woods with some friends, and I noticed that my legs felt weird, kind of itchy. I looked down and MY ANKLES WERE COVERED IN BEES. I must have stepped in a hive or something. I freaked out and ran to a nearby stream and stamped around in the water. I got stung about 20 times that day, and my valiant sister got I think nine stings trying to help. My son has never been stung, but he has inherited my bee issue, apparently. We go camping every year and the summer he was two he spent a lot of time yelling “Stay away bee! Stay away bee!” at any insect that flew, including mosquitos, gnats, etc.
Thanks for the great contest idea, and for suggesting the colorway to Tina. It’s just gorgeous.
What a gorgeous color!
I’m allergic to bees so they kind of freak me out if I see one. My daughter though, likes to draw shells and bees for her name – Shelby!
My parent’s dog used to chase bees, and snap at them. Luckily, he never caught one, but watching him jump through the flower beds, seeming to just snap at the air was hilarious.
I’ve never been stung, but I’m a bit worried about what would happen if I do. Mosquito bites turn into tennis balls on me.
I love honey! We use tons of it in my house. Gorgeous gorgeous yarn. Here is my bee story: It was a hot summer day, much like today. I was house hunting and the realtor brought me to this house with a masssive massive wood deck. I walked to the edge of the deck to admire the view and must’ve disturbed some nest under the deck. A bunch of bees flew out and stung my left foot a bunch of times. I started jumping around screaming mother-fing shit over and over. The realtor, I’m sure, was shocked and probably felt bad about the stings. I did not buy the house and my foot swelled up from all the stings.
I don’t have many fond bee memories, as I am very allergic. I blow up like a balloon like Martin Short in Pure Luck. I do, however, remember being quite young and out at a children’s theater with my mom and younger sister. We had just seen a fun puppet version of Pinocchio with the most amazing marionettes, and were about to go back in for a stage version of Cinderella. We were outside eating our picnic snacks, when I was stung by a bee.
Of course, I blew up to about 3 times my normal size, and started to wheeze quite badly. My mom was just about to pack us in the car and take us to the ER, when I started throwing a temper tantrum. I refused to leave until I had seen Cinderella! My mom was getting panicky, worried that I’d go into shock and trying to wrestle a puffy, wheezy cranky four year old into the car.
Another mother overheard the whole commotion, and came to the rescue with some Benadryl syrup. I was able to see Cinderella after all. I stopped crying, took the syrup as a brave little girl, and got into the theater to take my seat for the show.
My favorite part of the whole episode was when the show began, I was so enchanted by the whole story that I forgot I had even been stung. Being puffy and wheezy and cranky went away as soon as the curtain rose.
My mom couldn’t thank the other mother enough for the forethought to be carrying Benadryl to a children’s theater performance. From that day on, she never left home without it, and there were many other occasions when it came in handy.
I’d love to knit the Bee Fields shawl, and if I don’t win, I’m sure to be buying it soon enough!
When I was little the house we lived in became infested with bees one summer. They had managed to wiggle their way into the heating ducts and for two days we had to put towels over all the vents and shove toilet paper in all the nooks and crannies (because they were pouring out like water). When the people came to get rid of them they had to tear down the siding and part of the roof. They said we had over 150,000 bees in there. That’s a lot of bees!
I can’t wait to see the bee!
ok, this is a dorky bee story but the only thing that comes to mind… When I was in high school I worked as a waitress. The restaraunt that I worked in always played classical music on the muzac. Every single day I would hear the “flight on the bumble bee.” Still to this day when I hear that piece of music I am brought back to that time and place in my life.
I was the spelling bee champion in 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th grade. In the 6th grade bee, I was given the word “rhythm.” After standing there racking my brain for over a minute, I spoke. “Rhythm. R-H-Y-T-H-E-M. Rhythm.” As soon as the judge rang his little bell, the entire 6th grade audience let out a collective “Yesss!”
I still cringe a bit when I see the National Spelling Bee on television.
k well, don’t if its my favorite, but it happened. Five years ago when we got my Westie aka West Highland Terrier… he was bout 10 weeks old… cutie patootie was rompin around in the grass outside (mid-July) stepped on a bee… yelped and was out for the count. Turned out my little guy is allergic to bee stings. Can you stand it?? Emergency run to the vet, shot, baby benadryll… and we made through the event.
I love all the pictures in this post! My story is short and quite sad: I am allergic to honey. π
My mother was a bee charmer just like Iggy in “Fried Green Tomatoes”. We grew up eating wild honey right out of the comb. My mom would even chew bites of the comb like gum, but I was never brave enough for that (God I miss her)!
Can’t wait to start my Bee Shawl. I ordered the green like Ann knit, but that was before I saw the Buckwheat Honey yarn. It’s gorgeous!!
When I was a kid I lived in northern Michigan. Because of an overactive imagination and too much tv, I was terrified of two things – a tsunami on Lake Michigan, and killer bees. I was absolutely CERTAIN that it was possible to have a tidal wave on a lake as big as Lake Michigan, even if it was inland and nowhere near a fault line. And I watched the killer bees movies of the 70s over and over again, shrieking and quaking and positively terrified that the bees out in the garden were the killer variety and coming to get me.
After a while I smartened up, but I have to say the “I Used to Believe” website is one of my favorites, and there’s a reason! π
LOVE the yarn. It’s gorgeous!
Okay, I must delurk to tell you my bee story, simply because to this day my dad and I still laugh about it.
Last summer my dad came out to Texas to help move me out of my apartment. We were planning on driving cross country to my new digs in the SF Bay Area. I had been battling bees on my balcony for quite some time, and would periodically knock off the hives onto the ground a floor below (yeah, I was a great neighbor). So the morning of the move, I had knocked off a couple hives to my dad’s great consternation. Anyway, he went out onto the porch to move some of my junk around and immediately started jumping around and yelling “BEES! BEES!” and ran into the bathroom where he had a bunch of bees on him and had been stung several times. The glare he gave me was mighty.
So, it became my job to move the stuff off the balcony porch. I couldn’t tell where the bees came from, because hello, I’d knocked off their hives and they weren’t the type of bees to come back for revenge. So I went to move my big bucket that I used to hold an old rag rug I’d accidentally spilled India ink on, and now *I* was the one jumping around and screaming and covered in bees.
The bees had hived themselves in the rag rug inside the bucket, and when we’d moved it, we’d angered them.
In the end, we were forced to spray them down and I had to get rid of the bucket and rug. We were covered in stings, and went down to the Walmart for Benadryl pills and creams, and blew out of San Antonio with battle scars.
And that’s my bee story! π
What a great shawl and color! My favorite bee memory involves my family dog when I was growing up – Heidi. She was a beautiful German Shepherd who would patrol the backyard while we were swimming hunting for bees – she’d of course chew them up, so a bad ending for the bee, but we thought Heidi was a hero!
Thanks!
Lori
I love bees and I’ve been tempted by the Bee Fields pattern, but I’m saving up money to move right now and can’t afford to buy more yarn or patterns. My favorite bee story just happened last weekend:
I was sitting on a stone bench & leaning on the stone wall behind it while reading my new Harry Potter book last Saturday when I heard buzzing. I looked around and saw that all of the flowers behind my head had bees of various types on them. It surprised me and made me smile. The buzzing kept me company for the rest of the afternoon and not a single bee bothered me.
Mine is actually a quote that I love to death. Regardless of who wins, I hope you enjoy this.
Nothing is so like a soul as a bee. It goes from flower to flower as a soul from star to star, and it gathers honey as a soul gathers light.
~Victor Hugo
We were living in PA. The backyard had a hill covered in ivy and railroad ties. The railroad ties were starting to rot and being first time home owners, we deceided to dig them out and get rid of them….not only was it hard work, there were hives in them. After being stung multiple times in multiple places, I gave up and moved inside only to find that the stings on my ear caused it to swell so that it looked like I had been in a boxing match. Only problem was I was due in NYC on business early the next morning. Creative scarf work saved the day. Let’s just say that I try to avoid the hive if at all possible from that day onward!
When my son was about three, we used to go out early in the fall morning, and pet the bumblebees before the sun warmed them enough to move. They are unbelievably soft! My son still talks about it, and it’s a memory I’ll always cherish.
The shawl is going to be gorgeous in that color!
I don’t really have a bee “story”. It is more like a series of bee events. Every single time I have been stung by a bee(or even a wasp)it was because I was trying to save either a friend or one of my kids from being stung.
For example. I had taken my 2 toddlers swimming and my then 2 year old noticed a dead bee in the water. I pulled him away and tried to “swoosh it away” as he puts it. Another kid had jumped onto my back causing me to loose my balance and the damned thing stung my knuckle just below my wedding band. Whole finger swelled up like a sausage.
Another time I had to fish out a toy shovel from a broken water fountain. It’s base was like a basin and was filled to the rim with water and mud that the kids had put in it. I stuck my hand in there and came up with a yell. In between my fingers was a stinger. I looked at the basin and sure enough a dead bee floated to the top.
This has happened about 6 times in my life. You would think I would learn.
~Viv
Growing up I was never afraid of bees because my grandfather kept a few hives in the back field behind his house. I remember one time he took me down to see the bees and we sat on benches and watched them for a bit, and he talked about how honey is made and how to act around bees to keep from getting stung – I remember watching one crawl over my fingers and feeling perfectly safe and happy and unafraid. It’s one of my favourite memories of my grandfather, who passed away when I was twelve, sadly.
ο»ΏI used to visit my grandma every summer when I was little. In anticipation of my arrival she
would always go over to a neighbour’s house (who was a beekeeper), and pick up some farm
fresh honey just for me. It was always liquid and golden. That honey was so deliciously amazing
when spread over some freshly baked biscuits.
A few years ago I saw a bee flying around the house, so I whacked it with a newspaper and it fell behind the couch, where I forgor about it. Hours later I was getting ready for bed and felt a searing pain in the bottom of my foot. That bee had crawled 15 feet while severely injured, but he got his revenge!
Beautiful!
My bee story is simple. My inlaws have 20 acres and they grow raspberries and have fruit trees. A neighbor of theirs raises bees for honey and sets up hives at different peoples houses. He was over checking on the hive while we were there and my 6 year old was watching. He explained all about the hive to her, and then let her hold a male bee (which won’t sting). The look on her face when she told me she got to hold a bee in the palm of her hand was priceless.
As far as stings — a poultice of baking soda and water will help pull the poison out of the sting and will make it hurt a lot less faster. It won’t do anything for the swelling allergic reaction, but it does help the discomfort factor.
oh…I started the bee too in my own yarn and joined the KAL. It is actually my first shawl…i guess I like to jump in with both feet. I will have some pictures up when i get some progress done.
Well…my dad is allergic to bees so one day when I was about 4 he was stung while working in the garage and I happened to see the subsequent freak-out and swell-up and basically cartoon episode of my father jumping up and down while his arm ballooned into this unrecognizable thing. And he’s a doctor. I digress.
My husband seriously wonders out loud sometimes why I am deathly afraid of bees. I have only been stung once. goooooo figure.
My favourite bee story is that I’ve never been stung. π
No bee stories, but I just wanted to tell you how gorgeous the color is. It couldn’t be any closer to honey than the real stuff! I can’t wait to see Bees Fields made!!
my favorite bee stories are found here
http://www.birdchick.com/labels/beekeeping.html
no personal ones.
Hmm–honey recipies…my personal favorite when I wish to succumb to my weakness for champagne comes from the book Intercourses–I make my lemonade concentrate myself (1 part sugar, 1 part water, 1 part fresh squeezed lemon juice)–but here’s the recipe:
3oz frozen lemonade concentrate mixed with 2T Grand Marnier and 2T honey (warmed) stir until hone is dissolved and mix with 1/2 bottle of chilled champagne, garnish with fresh berries.
The question I always ask myself is why they limited it to 1/2 a bottle? Hmmm. And, if ever I’m in need of rationalization, I remind myslef that local honey is good for staving off that hay fever….Do I have to wait until after 5if it’s medicinal?
Perfect timing! This weekend we launch the website for my friend, beekeeper extraordinaire, MamaBeehive! She just emailed me this morning, to tell me she won a Blue Ribbon at State and was just asked to become the “bee expert” for a new work of fiction by a local author. This is her bee-wonderful weekend!
As her photographer, web manager, friend, and honey champion, I think I should win the prize π
Goodness, they must’ve just loaded it since I was cruising the site at the beginning of lunch & didn’t see it. Darn, now I need it to my list of STR colors I want. Leave it to Tina, dyer extraordinaire to come up w/that gorgeous color.
No fun bee stories from me since I’m allergic as heck to them.
I was in my early twenties and my boyfriend and his friends were reliving their juvenile delinquent days – shooting bb’s at leaves floating down the creek behind the house. I had never shot a bb gun before (a liberal/girly childhood) and the 4 of them were determined I was going to do so. I rested the bb gun on the porch railing, took the shot and leaned back in my chairβ¦directly onto a bee. One sting, centered directly in the middle of my back, rather like a target now that I think of it. I took that as a sign and havenβt touched any type of gun since. I also havenβt been stung again. Coincidence? I think not. π
A friend’s daughter was stung by a bee when she was about 7 years old. After that incident, every time that little brother, who was 3 at the time and witnessed the sting, saw a bee, he’d start this really strange chant: “A bee. A bee. A bee.” He honestly sounded like he had Tourette’s syndrome. Very freaky.
Our family kept bees when I was younger and every summer we’d collect the honey boxes and bring them up to the garage to get the honey out. The bees would be outside the garage windows buzzing around and wanting their honey back!
So one year, we’re all outside taking a break, talking and drinking iced tea, and my grandmother suddenly whoops and goes running across the lawn ripping her shirt off and yelling… She’d gotten a bee up her shirt and had felt it start crawling around on her.
Luckily, it didn’t sting her, but we laughed about that for days!
Well, I am so jealous because you have such an amazing eye for color and because Tina has designed what, two? three? colorways for you. But I’m not really complaining. I ordered the Bee fields pattern and the Oregon Red Clover Honey yarn in Silk Thread. I will benefit from your giftedness AND your friendship with Tina.
Here’s my story—my name, Melissa, means “honey-bee.” And when I saw that shawl, I knew I had to knit it! xo
Oh, I just want to lick that yarn up. Can you post bigger pictures and I’ll go get some tissues to wipe up my drool.
Bee story belongs to my mom mostly, but here it is. You know how when you’re a kid and your parents tell you something interesting about themselves, part of you doesn’t really believe it? I mean, it’s your parents; they’re not interesting, right? My mom once told me she was DEATHLY allergic to bee stings. Now, maybe part of me was afraid of the deathly part, but most of me said, in my mind of course, I’d never sass her out loud, “Yeah sure you are.” One nice summer day, we were out picking peaches from the trees in our yard and Mom let out a little scream. Just sort of an “Oh no, I dropped a really good peach” sound. By the time I looked over to her, she had her hand clamped around the side of her neck and had a paniced look in her eyes. She ended up being ok and all, but I will never forget how her neck swelled up to look like she had literally swallowed a grapefruit. It happened in a matter of hours. I don’t remember her going to the Dr. for a shot or anything. It was just one sting. I did, however, believe her for most of the other things she said from that point on. Most of them.
Ah, honey! When I think of honey, I think of my grandfather who passed away earlier this year. He and my grandmother raised beef cattle for many years, and I remember spending my summers on the farm, terrorizing the cattle. Last time we were up there the honey people came by and dropped off some honey that was gathered from some of the hives on their land. Whenever I see that jar of honey they gave me, I think of my grandparents.
Once when I was small, we were at the neighborhood pool. My dad saw a bee float by in the water that was still alive. He felt bad for it and tried to scoop it up out of the water before it drowned, and it stung him. Little bastard.
Bee story? Here’s mine. Brace yourself. If you are not wearing underwear, you might want to go put some on. It was 1972, I was very pregnant with my twins. It was hot, and I was heavy, and hot, and I was wearing a long muumuu with no underwear in a vain attempt to keep cool. I was walking around in the garden, and finally went to sit down on a garden bench. And I sat on a bee, that had climbed up the inside of the muumuu and managed to insert itself somewhere exactly where no one, I repeat no one, ever wants to get stung. Especially if you are pregnant and cannot get agilely to the area to remove the stinger and apply something soothing. Remarkably, I felt sorry for the bee, and I have never been stung in the 40 years since, and I have a good relationship with bees. I come across them quite often as I am a window cleaner, and talk to them, urging them to get away from windows before I spray them with soapy water.
I have two bee stories, but I’ll pick just one. When I was 17, I was at my Grandmothers house which is on the St. Claire river in MI. With all the swimming, there’s lots of barefoot walking in the grass. I didn’t have my glasses or contacts so I managed to step on a bee right on my arch! I thought I had the whole stinger out, but a little was left in. Fast forward one month to when my Mom was out of town and I was at a local two week ballet camp. I started getting hives on my legs which quickly spread to the rest of my body. My arch was so swollen you could see it anymore. I totally didn’t think my Dad was up to this medical challenge and went to one of the other dance mothers first. It worked out in the end with a trip to the doctor (my Dad managed to make the appt), novacaine in my foot and a doctor fishing to pull out the rest of the stinger. I could barely get my soft ballet shoes on for the final parents performance, but I still did it!
My favourite bee story? It features my brother, an obviously courageous and intelligent child. We were still in elementary school, I think, and we were visiting my grandparents over the summer. We were messing about on the balcony, when we notice a bee. Me being the girl I am, I run and hide. Taylor? A little more ballsy. He decides it’s a good idea to karate chop it. So he does. And it stings his pinky good. He starts crying and grandpa freaks out and bundles us up to take us to the hospital. Good times.
I am so going to have to buy the pattern and yarn if I do not win!! Let me see, there are so many bee stories… I am allergic, but not at all afraid of honey bees. They are not mean, so if you do not threaten them, it is all good. My parents had one small bee hive in our back yard, and we were all told to leave it alone, what would happen etc. Well, one day, one of my younger brothers stuck a stick in the opening, and ended up having to be stripped in the back yard to get all the bees out of his clothing. He never tried that again!
I don’t have one bee story, but a series of coincidences that have been following me around for a year. Last summer a friend let me borrow _Robbing the Bees_ by Holley Bishop, and I’ve been fascinated by honey and apiculture ever since. My co-worker and I talk about setting up an urban apiary in her backyard when we get laid off. We’re both concerned about the decline of honeybees in North America. One of my favorite foods is crumpets with butter and honey. Last week I had my natal chart read by an astrologer and she asked me if I had any connection with bees or wasps because of something she saw.
Bees are trying to make themselves noticed in my life right now.
I’ve always been horribly afraid of bees, but strangely, I’ve only been stung once. One day in high school, I was sitting with a friend in the school stadium watching the girls play football. Of course all the spectators were goofing off. Suddenly I felt something hit the back of my head. I assumed someone had thrown something at me, so I reached back to pull whatever it was out of my hair. It turned out to be a bee which stung my finger immediately. I nearly hyperventilated. My friend removed the stinger, disposed of the bee, and I went off to pottery class. Once in class, I packed clay around the sting, and it actually helped reduce the swelling. All in all, it wasn’t such a traumatic experience. But I still freak out whenever I hear the buzzzzzzz.
This happened to me Wednesday.
We have a new pole barn, just built in 2006. One of my hens decided to make her nest in the soffet, in the inside corner of the roof overhang about 15′ up. Of course I did not realize this until her chick hatched. Yup just one chick.
Who peeped and peeped and peeped and ran the length of the soffet (~40′) looking for mama who had flown to the ground to show her kid the world.
I carried the extension ladder into the barn and somehow managed to not hit anything as I hoisted it against the wall and began my ascent. I stood at the top of that ladder for quite some time reaching for that darn chick who was always just out of reach and finally ran down to the other side.I went down the ladder and got a piece of cardboard to shorten his trail a little bit – I blocked the alley that the soffet made. the little bugger got through anyway.
Meanwhile the mama hen is on the ground, screaming her head off because she knows I am after her baby. And she sets of the roosters who start their screaming which brings the tom turkeys into the barn and they start their gobbling and the dog starts barking and that chick never stopped peep peep peeping.
Now where are the bees in this story, you may be wondering. For every rung on an aluminum step ladder there are 2 holes, one on each side. Four of these holes somehow managed to be loaded with wasps who must have just appeared because I am sure they were not there when I inspected all of the holes. And sure enough while I am resting at the top of this ladder, feeling sorry for this chick and myself because I can’t reach the darn thing, I got stung.
Did I mention I am allergic?
Not incredibly allergic where I need to carry an epi-pen or die ( but I really should consider getting some_) but life sure is miserable for a while. I made it to the ground and hyperventilated and shook and told myself I would be ok. And finally I was.
I looked up the ladder to where I was and there were several wasps up there, lined up like soldiers waiting for the next onslaught.
I brought the ladder back down to be horizontal with the ground and sprayed the devil out of every hole. And 2 garter snakes emerged, somehow getting into the ladder after I checked all those holes.
Satisifed the bees were gone, I righted the ladder and tried for that darn chick again. I had the same luck I did the first round, but with less bees this time.
It was warm enough and baby chicks really don’t need to eat for their first 3 days of life (they absorb the egg yolk before hatch and subsist on that) so I knew the chick should be ok until my husband came home. After all if he hadn’t made the plunge to the ground by now it was doubtful he ever would.
So husband came home and wouldn’t you know it, he retrieved that darn chick in about 2 minutes. Unassisted. With a 6 foot step ladder. By shimmying his way along the purlins of the wall he was able to reach up to where the chick was.
Mama and chick were very happy to be reunited. And I am pretty sure that chick is a rooster.
My favorite bee story happened when I was about 5 or 6. A friend was over with her parents and we were all in the backyard. I took the friend out to show her a hole in the ground with bees in it (okay, it probably was wasps, now that I think about it). I decided to catch some and covered the hole with a margarine tub. But then I couldn’t see if there were any bees in the tub, so I lifted it up and the bees attacked me. I went running home with my friend behind me swatting at the bees. Our parents saw us coming and thought she was beating me up. I ended up with both eyes swollen shut and 6 stings on my face.
When I was a young girl I longed to drink soda out of a can instead of having to pour it into a cup, like only little girls had to do, of course. So, at a picnic one day my mother let me keep it in the can, but with the admonishment “you’ll get a bee in there and get stung.” Sure enough, bee in the mouth. I’m sure she arranged it somehow so I would stop questioning her wisdom!
The only time I’ve ever been stung by a bee was when I was a little girl. I was walking past the refrigerator and felt a really sudden, sharp pain on my upper leg. I started crying and my mom took my long pants off to find a bee had climbed up my pantleg and stung me. For years after that I was afraid to walk by that refrigerator!
What beautiful yarn! My only bee story is being stung when I was a smal child. The bee got me on my belly-button, which still stuck out at that time, with the swelling it nearly became bigger than my belly.
However, I do have a good beauty recipe with honey; mix a egg yolk, some honey (about 2 tablespoons) and some oatmeal to make a face mask. Place on the skin for about 10-15mins, then wash off. This will leave you with really soft skin.
Oh man. Total gorgeosity.
I have a truly fabulous and hilarious honey story, but I can’t share it because it is completely X-rated. And I am just not prepared to tell that kind of story on a blog that has thousands of readers. So, let’s see, best bee story….
Hmm. I don’t really have any good ones. No stings. No big bee fears. My only real bee story is that my boys are crazy about Winnie-the-Pooh and have a set of the classic books. The covers are decorated with bees. So when my boys were in the fabric shop with me a few months ago, one of my sons spotted this really fun blue fabric with bumblebees on it, and he insisted that we get it b/c of Pooh. So I did, and I made both boys a pair of pj pants, and will soon be making a pair for myself and my adult stepson. The boys are so proud of their bumblebee pants.
Yeah, that’s not nearly as good as my honey story.
About 5 years ago my mother and I went on vacation to Mexico and while there we discovered that everything is pretty much outdoors especially the restaurants. So one morning we were enjoying a wonderful breakfast of fresh fruit, eggs, sausage, toast and jam when we visited by a bee. Not being a fan of bees or any flying bug near my food I was having issues. We were about to smush the bee when a gentleman sitting at the table next to ours helped us out by cupping the bee in his hand and placing on the little cup of jam. The bee never left the jam and pretty much joined us in breakfast.
Well, I have always worked on the theory that the bee freak out increases you chance of getting stung so I used to tell the kids I babysat for that if I bee sat on you that it meant the bee thought you were a flower and if you stayed very still s/he would move on the the next flower. Usually worked until they saw another adult freak out.
But regardless, that colorway is totally amazing.
When I was in college, I lived in an old, old farmhouse owned by the school that was more than a little creepy. There were the usual stories of it being haunted, of course, and in order to get to and from classes, you had to walk through a bit of woods and a cornfield–not fun at night! So, my roomates and I were properly creeped out when–each day–we would find a pool of dark red, sticky, viscous liquid on one of our windowsills. We’d wipe it up and it would come back again and again. We called to have someone look at it. Could there be a body dripping blood in the attic that we didn’t have access to? (Two of the three of us were theater majors, so drama ran rampant.) We were relieved to find out that there was a hive of bees in the wall and it was honey oozing out. Still a little gross, but not nearly as bad as we imagined.
My favourite bee story was back in grade 3. I was supposed to stay in at recess to sharpen the pencils. But there was a bee on the sharpener. So I just sat there and cried my way through recess.
That was a number of years ago.
I also had someone write me a poem once, based on what he poetically referred to “my psychotic aversion to bees”.
Love the colourways.
here’s a bee limerick from Edward Lear himself:
There was an Old Man in a tree,
Who was horribly bored by a Bee;
When they said, ‘Does it buzz?’
He replied, ‘Yes, it does!’
‘It’s a regular brute of a Bee!’
My bee story is kind of sad. Cameron, as a baby, was allergic to milk and soy. As I had been told there was an increased risk of autism with the MMR and allergic kids–I held off on Cam’s shot while we were living in the UK and had it done in the US while we were visiting. The day he got his shot, he got stung in the neck by a bee. I was horrified. And terrified. I couldn’t even explain to my doctor my ridiculous paranoia. That was before Owen was even born.
My fist bee sting was actually at Owen’s school. I was playing peekaboo with him when he was in one of those Little Tykes play castles–and the bee stung me in the head.
My last bee story involves poor Gracie. Our house here on Lawn Guyland had a cheesy finished basement–lots of paneling and wagon wheels. Every day there would be a bee flying around. We searched and I finally found a HUGE paper hive behind the paneling. We are talking like 3×3 feet. I found some guy from CT who uses them for medicinal purposes but he didn’t want to take the ferry down to get my hive. My dad got Kevin some commerical bee bombs. We spent the night at my mom’s house and left Kevin at the house to bomb the bees. Kevin successfully rid the house of the bees. But it was really nasty when we finally pulled the paneling down.
I heard a great story on NPR years ago about the medicinal uses of honey–it’s a natural antiseptic and apparently speeds healing of open wounds. The insight offered that I found brilliant was that people with allergies can find relief by eating local honey–the pollen in it can help give them tolerance.
My favorite honey memory is from a trip to Greece with my family in my teens. I was a vegetarian then–something that was virtually impossible to explain to the locals who finally decided that I’d sacrificed meat eating for Lent (we traveled there in the Spring). For much of the trip I subsisted on oranges and feta cheese, but one glorious morning I was served fresh, thick yogurt criss-crossed by ropes of thick, chewy honey. It was pure ambrosia.
My favorite memory of honey is eating a breakfast of crusty, lightly toasted French bread slathered in Miel de Sapin des Vosges (Pine Honey) dipped into a big bowl of chamomille herbal tea in my cousin’s kitchen in Lorraine, France. Sooo yummy!
I’ll have to go get me some of that lace yarn from Blue Moon. After seeing your Moth shawl, I want one too!
My cousin is visiting right now and yesterday we were reminiscing about her town pool. Like the time we were just standing in line for the diving board, not moving at all, and a bee up and stung me in the middle of my back! So much for “leave them alone and they won’t bother you.”
i don’t really have a bee story, but my name does mean honey bee, or ‘sweet like the honey bee,’ depending on which baby book you look at. so i’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for cute little fuzzy bumble bees because of that. π
I love the pattern and I love the colorway. Couldn’t be more perfect together. Just gorgeous!
Anyway, my bee story. When I was about 10, there was a bee in our yard that was “hiding” in the grass. I was barefoot. I thought it would be fun to step on the bee just to see what would happen. Of course, it stung me and I was not happy. I guess that is what you get for trying to hurt something that isn’t hurting you to begin with!
Every Wednesday morning, I walk downtown with my three year old to the Farmers Market. Without fail, the Honey guy waves us over and hands out a little plastic spoon and little plastic capped cup of his creamed honey. You know, “they” say you shouldn’t give honey to babies but the honey guy disagrees. Anyway, this tradtion has gone on since my son was a baby. Now, he is almost four. This year, the honey guy waved us over and told me when my son starts school the best way to make him a peanut butter and honey sandwich is to use his creamed honey. He says it won’t drip!!
So we buy our honey from the Honey guy and each time we are at his table, I can’t help but notice he doesn’t let one mom sneak by his table without calling them over for a sample of his honey. He also is full of bee information…all you have to do is ask:)
I have enjoyed watching all your progress on the Monkey socks. In fact, your inspired me to whip out my STR Watermelon Tourmaline and make Monkey’s of my own. Love them!
no my favorite memory, but….we were walking on a remote beach in oz, found a nice fresh water trickle heading into the ocean. i thought i would be lovely to dance around in the cool water. immediately upon splashing in i stepped n a bee and it stung me between the toes. between the toes….yow!!!! there were some cute little aussies witnessing my writhing pain and suggested i rub some of a beach succulent leaf on the sting. it worked wonders. the sting itself was insult on injury (literally) because earlier that day i was stung by a bull ant, which basically equates to a red hot wire being forcibly shoved through your skin. no remedy for that one, just a whole bunch of grown aussies (asses?) laughing their pats off at my expression. hope i win for having to recall the pain of that day. the shawl is delicious. i still love honey.
Hello Cara!
I’m delurking to tell two of my bee / honey stories (and by the way also to say thank you, because it is all your fault if me too I have started a mitre blanket :-))
1) I once had an encounter during an ornithological excursion i was guiding. I was explaining birds to a group of children when we suddenly heard a loud, humming noise. I just had the time to tell the children to shut π their mouth and not to move when the sky got darker and there were bees everywhere. A queen moving with her colony. It went on for several minutes. Very impressive, but no attack at all.
2) I don’t eat honey. Nor do my husband or son. My daughter adores a good honey sandwich. With Nutella. Together.
Thanks for your inspiration
Daniela
P.S. Incidentally, Monday 30th of July is my birthday π
My favorite bee story. Many years ago I was hanging out at a dry creek bed where my then boyfriend and his friends had built a rope swing. We were about 19 at the time (one of the Macho-ist times in a male’s life I believe) and he got stung by a bee on his leg. Well, remembering my Dad’s teachings I asked him for a cigarette. Which brought on all sorts of lectures about me not smoking. Not so politely I shut them up and got a cigarette. I broke it open in his hand and made him spit in it, mix up the tobacco and spit and put it on the sting. Low and behold this ol’ city girl managed to make the “booboo all better”
Um, well, there was that time when I stepped on a bee on the front lawn when I was about five, and I haven’t felt comfortable walking barefoot in grass ever since . . . it’s not really much of a story, though. And you know my name, Debra, does mean “queen bee,” so . . , you’d think I’d have a better one!
Okay-I don’t usually enter contests- but this is too good to pass up!
My husband and his cousin were playing in an old derelict car, and the cousin opened the glove box, and a bee came straight out and (made a bee line) and bit him in the belly button!
Why do I find that hilarious?
It’s great to have friends in the right places! That yarn is stunning.
Bee story, or shall I say, Honey Story: My husband LOVES honey. He also considers himself somewhat of a Pooh, so honey is a must. A few years ago he decided he wanted to have hives, but I did not want thousands of bees buzzing away in my backyard. I think it would have given me nightmares. Almost as bad as snakes. He thought it would be great to have an unlimited supply of honey. I convinced him it would be much easier to just buy the honey from a local farmer and always have a jar or two of fresh honey around. Thank god he went for it!
Well, I’m happy you are asking for bee stories because my very favorite story ever is a bee story and I don’t get to share it nearly enough. Other people may not think this story is at all funny but I have to tell you that I have never laughed as hard in my life as when I was on this phone call.
To start, a little back story. My husband and I have been together for 15 years, 10 of that has been married life(next month is our 10 year anniversary actually). We met in college when we were both geology majors and also in the band. So one summer the love of my life (yeah, same guy I was just talking about being married to) had to go spend 6 weeks off doing summer field work for his degree and this was a bit hard on us because we had not actually been apart from each other for longer than a day at this point, year three of our relationship. Each day while in the field he would call me and tell me how things were going. I really looked forward to these calls because I missed him terribly.
So one evening J called me and told me about going to this crazy little gas station out in the middle of nowhere. There had been some car trouble with one of the geo vans and yada yada they were at a tiny little general store. While he was standing outside the gas station/store waiting for his buddy to come out he started to hear this strange buzzing next to his head. He looked to each side and didn’t see anything. The buzzing suddenly got much louder and his pulse raced, what size must this bee be in order to make that noise? How insane was he going to look if he took off running and swatting at his head? I mean, really, “This bee is going to KILL ME!!!” (you should have heard his voice retelling this story, he is VERY scared of bees)
When his fear of being stung finally outweighed his fear of looking like an idiot he jumped away from the noise. What did he see? Right behind his head was a humming bird feeder! There was no bee at all, it was a humming bird.
Oh man I am hard to get to laugh, but I laughed so hard I couldn’t breathe.
Apricot Honey Bread-Great!!!!
– Makes 12 servings –
Ingredients
3 cups whole wheat flour
3 teaspoons baking powder
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1-1/4 cups 2% low-fat milk
1 cup honey
1 egg, slightly beaten
2 Tablespoons vegetable oil
1 cup chopped dried apricots
1/2 cup sunflower seeds, chopped walnuts or chopped almonds
1/2 cup raisins
Combine dry ingredients in large bowl. Combine milk, honey, egg and oil in separate large bowl. Pour milk mixture over dry ingredients and stir until just moistened. Gently fold in apricots, sunflower seeds and raisins. Pour into greased 9 x 5 x 13-inch loaf pan. Bake at 350Β°F for 55 to 60 minutes or until wooden pick inserted near center comes out clean.
Unfortunately (or fortunately, for that matter), I don’t have any bee stories. Neither my DH, son, nor myself have ever been stung, and thus are a little afraid of having a reaction, since we don’t know if we’re allergic or not. Last summer our town lost a couple people due to bee stings (or was it wasp?), and they’d been stung before!
Ok, on a lighter note, I love the Oregon honey color, and have been eyeing the bee kit since Anne was working on the shawl! Then again, I love Oregon and went to college there, so anything to do with it, and I’ll take it. =) Oh, and we do like honey, too.
Bees- I spent my childhood irrationally frightened of them. Bee outside = girl inside. As an adult I have had to tame my fear (for God’s sake I am about a million times bigger than them)so that I would not pass the craziness on to my children.
Honey- Love it! Favorite Eggo topping: sliced bananas and chopped walnuts drizzled with lots of honey. Yummy!
Here’s my bee story:
I remember driving my husband’s stick-shift car back when I was in my 20’s, and I still needed to concentrate on all the shifting and what to do with which foot. I felt something tickle my ankle, and than WOW, a sharp pain! A bee was in my car and was crawling up my left leg! I’m not allergic to bee stings, but it was lucky that I didn’t have a car accident! I pulled over to the side of the road, got out of the car, and brushed the bee out of the leg of my jeans.
I love the pattern and the colors.
My Bee story is that I am very VERY afraid of bees because I was stung by 4 bumblebees while in a parking structure. I wasn’t even doing anything to them and was stung. Therefore, even the buzzing sound made by bugs makes me cower. It use to stop me in my tracks but I have gotten over that a little more.
Maybe this pattern and yarn would make me get over it completely. Guess we will see if I happen to win :O)
My fav bee story happened to my ex-boyfriend when he was maybe 2 or 3 years old and on a little walk in the neighborhood with his deaf grandfather. Being an inquisitive little tyke, he saw a bee flitting about on a flower and bent over to pick it up to show Grandpa. Grandpa tried to get the little one to put down the bee, but with him not being able to speak due to his deafness, and my ex-bf being only 2 or 3, communication was at a loss, until said little bee stung the little finger and boy howdy were they both yelling then!! Folks in the neighborhood came out, there was much confusion and suddenly the police came – all over a bee sting and because poor Grandpa couldn’t explain himself.
We always said we would have liked to have read that police report!! bzzzzzz…..i love that Oregon honey!!
One summer during my college years, I’d occasionally hop on a Greyhound to visit my boyfriend (now husband) in Minneapolis. On one particular visit, while saying our farewells (see: make-out session by the bus) I was stung by a bee. I am allergic.
The bus driver called for an ambulance. While it sped through downtown MSP, I watched my boyfriend out the ambulance window as he attempted to keep up with us.
In the emergency room, a nurse kept checking me to see if my “shot” had worked. After several visits I finally noticed her name: Nurse Blood! She said that if I was well enough to notice her name badge, I was well enough to be discharged…and so I was.
How ’bout my most RECENT bee story? My 4-1/2 got stung for the first time in his life on Wednesday at school–on the front of his neck. His teacher carefully washed the area, put ice on it, followed by a bandaid. He tried to keep that bandaid on for as long as he could, but it didn’t last through the night.
The next day, picking wild raspberries in the yard he encountered some prickers, getting him on the palm of his hand. He claimed he’d been stung by a bee, and needed another bandaid! That’s what happens when you can have bandaids with any (licensed)character imaginable!
Wow, that is a stunning prize! Too stunning to pass up.
I wish I had a dramatic bee story based in personal experience, but you know? The most lingering one comes from remembering a TV commercial they ran many years ago (at least a decade I think) for an allergy medicine. The ads showed a little animated bee flying around into flowers and then sneezing so hard it flew off screen and sprayed pollen everywhere. Then the little bee took the medicine (like a good corporate shill of course), and was so articulate he could recite soliloquies. His line was, of course, “To bee, or not to bee.” (to thundering applause from bees all around). Yuk yuk yuk. π
Okay, since there are TWO chances…
It was summer and I was in the front passenger side of the car and leaned into the back seat to get something, when I sat back down I started screaming because a bee had flown under me and stung my upper, upper thigh since I was wearing shorts. It swelled up sooo big. My poor husband was driving and didn’t know why I was freaking out until we pulled over and examined my backside.
That yarn reminds me the only time I’ve ever been stung by a bee – and deserved it. I was a 9 year old tomboy, riding bikes with my best bud in the height of summer. My friend, a boy, was also 9. A big fat bee circled around his head and he dove off his bike, screaming and flailing about like a girl. I laughed so hard I nearly peed myself. What I failed to notice was that the bee that’d buzzed by buddy had landed on my thumb and he was in a stinging mood. I guess there’s no escaping the karma train. Oof. My thumb swelled up like a turnip!
favorite bee story: actually, it’s more of my most memorable bee story, but not such a happy one. i was at nature camp, summer between third and fourth grades. we keep a beehive on the balcony outside of our room. a kid from my class was rocking in his chair, and tipped over backwards, falling through the door behind him and onto the balcony, where he disturbed the bees in the hive. (i won’t go into the rest, which includes an ambulance, but ultimately the boy was okay and returned to camp.)
favorite bee story: actually, it’s more of my most memorable bee story, but not such a happy one. i was at nature camp, summer between third and fourth grades. we keep a beehive on the balcony outside of our room. a kid from my class was rocking in his chair, and tipped over backwards, falling through the door behind him and onto the balcony, where he disturbed the bees in the hive. (i won’t go into the rest, which includes an ambulance, but ultimately the boy was okay and returned to camp.)
When I was a kid my mom was hanging out the laundry and a bee flew up the leg of her pants. She felt she had no choice but to whip her pants off to get rid of it in full view all the neighbourhood kids who were home for the summer.
She always says that we’re lucky that with the three of us at home driving her crazy she had the presence of mind to put underwear on that day.
In college, my volleyball team was obsessed with bees. We even bought a $2 video from blockbuster called “Buzztastic Bees!” It was awesome. We would see each other on campus and buzz at each other. But my favorite thing about bees is that they can air condition their hive!!!! They bring water back to the hive making a mini-puddle. Then, they all gather around the puddle and beat their wings to evaporate the water and cool the hive. How AWESOME is that?!?!?!
Love that yarn – bee-you-tiful! I couldn’t think of a single bee story (all my stings have been by an unknown assailant or a wasp) and asked my family if they had any bee sotires – and my 10-year-old reminded me of how he got stung whilst playing in the sandbox and we had a visitor over – this happened about 6 years ago, and he talks about it like it was yesterday…where do kids get their memories?
Anyway, good luck with the shawl, it’ll bee lovely!
To tell about honey and bees for the opportunity to grasp that unique and masterly coloured yarn, seems so affectionate and as a warm token of appreciation to us, your readers. Thank you for giving us all the chance. To pay you back Iβll give you a poem.
With the horizon as the canvas and the setting sun as the palette Iβll give you:
Colours of brown and gold,
caresses fingers and mind.
Breathing the silent, luxurious air after rain.
Gazing at honey dripping spectraβs of light,
appealingly stirred together.
With the depth as of the sea,
frozen amber and sunny copper.
Reflected through hand shaped glass,
dwelling on branches of oak,
tea and honey blend together.
Shadows are trembling in vain.
Expressions from hands of a maker.
Well used cherry tree pins,
knitting a song of delight.
Colour sensations are gold.
Hope you can push the writing together – Iβm’ not so god at HTML
My Bee storyy is about my own personal Bee—Deborah, our oldest Deborah means the Bee, she has always been fascinated by them, she had a bee necklace at a very young age, she had bee costumes, bee coffee mugs, bee stationary, everything you can think of. Her legs have many bee tattoos—wouldn’t it be great if I could knit her the Bee Shawl, I am already planning the Moth Shawl for my other daughter the butterfly!!! Your shawl Cara is going to be gorgeous!
This is not a great story, but once when I was about 10 years old I sat on a bee in the car, and got stung on my hiney. Overall, bees don’t bug me, but mosquitoes I loathe.
Not so much a story but a memory. When I was small, I’d often spend parts of my summer with my grandparents in Wisconsin. There was a farmer’s market that my grandfather would take me to. I loved one stand where the farmer had honey – including in the comb. That’s my first memory of eating honey – in the comb – and my grandfather telling me the story of when he was a little boy on a farm in Minnesota – when lightning hit a bee tree and it took wagons and wagons and barrels and barrels to collect all the honey from the tree. Those two events are tied together and come back to me, one with the other. Good memories and thank you for bringing them back again.
Wow! What amazing prizes. When I was about 12 I had my first babysitting gig for a woman who lived downstairs from us in our building. (My mom was ‘on call’ upstairs.) I was playing outside with the two little boys and the youngest started freaking out because a bee was strafing him. Trying to calm him down (while I too was freaking out–but on the inside), I shielded him with my body, swatting at the bee. I felt my hand briefly make contact with the bee, and then saw it hit the ground. For a brief moment I was thrilled; I was the best.babysitter.ever. I had protected that little boy just like a mama bear. Then all of a sudden my hand just about exploded in pain. Suddenly I was not much older than that little boy. I was crying and calling for my mom. My mom came down and pulled the stinger out, and took care of me, calming me down, holding me and keeping the boys from losing it completely from seeing their babysitter go mental. Thank goodness I wasn’t allergic! (What a testament to my mom’s maternal instincts, by the way, for conquering her own fears and doing all this for me–she *is* allergic.)
sorry for the triple post
Ooooo look at that yarn. It matches the honey perfectly!
I remember as a child there used to be bees at the edge of our back yard. I was always afraid of them, but my Dad would take me back and show me that there was nothing to be scared of. He would run his hands over them and pet them. I never got up the courage to do that, but every time I see a bee I think of him. Now that he is gone from this life is a sweet memory of some of the time that we had together.
My most memorable bee story was when I was about 12 and my little brother was 3. We were riding in the car (I was in the front, and he was in the back behind our mom the driver) when a bee flew in and stung him on the arm. He didn’t seem that upset by it, but in no more than 5 minutes he looked like the stay puff marshmallow. I was laughing until I realized he couldn’t breathe. Luckily, we happened to be driving in town (instead of my hometown where there’s no hospital, or anything like that) and mom took him straight to the emergency room.
Under my mom’s instructions I climbed in the back and laid him down with his neck completely straight (like you’d give someone CPR) to keep his airway as clear as possible. We made it before he went into shock, and the doctors said he was very lucky to be alive.
Oh I love honey – I mean it. I went over to buy, but will see how the winning goes. LOVE the colour.
My bee story – I was 13 – that awkward age. We were at the beach and I went to change to leave. I was checking my hair and clothing and leaned on the counter. My hand went right on a dozed bee that was there and he stung me – with his last dying breath! That really hurt!
Honey story – the best gift the boyfriend nobody wanted ever gave me was a margarine tub full of homegrown honey (not his). It was so yummy – if there isn’t honey in my house, I’m in trouble!!
oh my god, i have no bee story π how sad.
My husband and I traveled to the French Alps this summer for a few days. He was bicycling every day, and I decided to go to a nearby artisanal village. But the bus had already left, so the hostess of our B&B told me that her sister-in-law, an epicultrice, could take me. I had no idea until we arrived at her sister-in-law’s house, that an epicultrice was a beekeeper and honey maker.
My favorite bee story has to do with Winnie The Pooh…
Years ago when my son Paul was young, he and I visited my sister at her farmhouse. Paul, quite nervous around bees, would shy away whenever he saw one. We would tell him to just ignore them; they wouldn’t hurt him if he didn’t bother them.
We were sitting in the kitchen when Paul saw a bee land on the table; he tried to wave it away. “Kill it!” he insisted. “Be still” we said. “Leave it alone and it will fly away.” It did fly away, we saw it – straight down to the floor. A few seconds later, Paul was screaming! That bee had stung him on the foot.
Once we had doctored him up and calmed him down, his looks toward us were still angry and blaming and ours toward him were sheepish and apologetic.
I don’t know that I have a favorite bee story since I’m allergic π But when I was a kid I used to go to day camp at a nature center. They had a bee hive enclosed in glass right in the center and I always thought it was the coolest thing to see the worker bees and to look for the queen (and kind of cool that the queen rules the roost). All of the activity fascinated me! Ok, I know it’s boring, but I’d love to take a stab at the project!
I was about four or five and was coming home from my first trip to the Smithsonian with my parents. Even at that age, I was a weird kid and was absolutely thrilled to have gone to a museum. I was skipping and bobbing my head while holding my mother’s hand talking about all of the different things I saw.
The combination of my excitement and horrible eyesight (near sighted/legally blind) made me oblivious to the strange looking nest perched on a double parking meter. Forget the nest…I don’t even think I saw the meter. I bobbed my head right into the thing…
Needless the say, I pissed the bees off. Even that wasn’t noticed right away because I’d just really hurt myself and my parents turned to me to try and console me between their snickering. (I ran into a lot of things…walls and stuff) We didn’t realize the bees were pissed until the buzzing. We all looked at the meter and saw them coming at me.
They swarmed me as we yelled, ‘BEES!’ in unison and ran towards the car…lucky for us it wasn’t far. My mom pushed me in the car while trying to swat them away. Somehow we managed to all get in the car and make break for it. I was stung quite a few times though…we thought later maybe they were wasps or hornets.
Odd place for a nest…
I was teaching pre-K and one of my students found it extremely difficult to focus on anything for more than 3 minutes. A bee came into the classroom, and chaos ensued — all the kids were screaming and crying, while the other adults & I told them that they would be fine. BJ watched the craziness raptly, and then went to the writing center and spent about a half hour drawing a sketch of the bee. He was more focused than we had ever seen him.
(I love the yarn, by the way — shaded solids are just my thing!)
well everyone has great bee stories so far, and I’ve got one too. Mine’s about a wasp though. When I was younger around 7-8 I would guess, my family had sat down to eat dinner at the table and we were all just sitting around talking nothing really spectacular, when I looked down and found a HUGE wasp, I mean HUGE sitting on my hand. I was scared beyond anything because what do you do, you can’t move because you don’t want stung so I’m sitting there going…… “oh, oh, oh, oh” and finally my father looks over and realizes what going on, everyone stopped talking and stared at me. My father got the bright idea that he would just “kill it”. He stood up walked calmly around the table and proceeded to do just that he squashed it right on top of my hand. Luckily no one but the wasp got hurt and I have a funny story.
Great idea!!! My bee story is this: When I was in college I used to walk around barefoot most of the time. I would walk to classes and stuff barefoot. The campus is pretty huge so it was a lot of walking. I am allergic to bees and of course one day I stepped on a bee!!! It got it’s revenge and stung me on the bottom of my foot. Ow! I ended up on crutches because of the sting. For 2 weeks! π You would think that would make me hate the bees but no, since they make my lovely honey, I still have the love! I know it’s not a “funny” story per se but it’s the bee story that I thought of off the top of my head!!
I can’t wait to see how your bee shawl turns out!! This is my favorite new shawl pattern out there. Thanks Cara!
First of all: THANK YOU! I say that b/c it’s you we need to thank for that amazingly BEE-autiful (it had to be done) colorway from STR! WOWZA!
My story is from when I was about 7 years old. I was playing with my brothers in the yard having a great time. I was running with my arms spread out wide taking it all in. I started to run while passing my arms through the trees in our yard. I ran with my left arm through the branches of an evergreen pine in our yard. I remember thinking “this tree never hurt me like this before” before looking at my hand . . . which was completely covered by bees! Needless to say, soon thereafter everyone in the house (and the neighbor’s for that matter) came out running in response to the blood-curdling screams that I emitted. My hand at this point looked like a contorted blob of blubber. To this day, my left hand tingles and all the hair stands on end at the sight of a bee. . . . .
It took my hand over a week to get back to normal. Thank GOD I wasn’t allergic. But hey, I didn’t have to do chores for 2 weeks and I got to go get ice cream after getting seen by my doctor!
Oh, I watched a bee with the girl once. He had been visiting on the crepe myrtle and had pollen all over his legs. Did he ever look mad! I had always thought that the flowers and the bees had a *happy* symbiotic relationship. But there he was, frantically trying to rub the pollen off himself. The girl was only three, and this was her introduction to the birds and bees. Sheesh.
(I won’t be around on Tuesday or really even till Saturday, but will be back and on the very off chance that I would win, I’m not ignoring you, just not there)
My mother was once stung by a bunch of bees on a camping trip when she was a child. The stings were unfortunately all on her bottom! She had to bend over a picnic table while the park ranger picked each of the stingers out one by one! Needless to say this was not her best camping memory.
Beautiful, beautiful yarn. What would we do without the fabulous Tina and her fabulous yarny art?
~Heather
Love the colors. Here’s my Bee story:
My 15 month old little boy thinks every bug is a Bee. He loves them. One evening, we were playing in the living room and it had just rained. We opened up the door and closed the screen to let the breeze blow in. There, on the other side of the door, was the biggest spider everywhere. I screamed, but my little boy started jumping up and down saying “BEE, BEE, BEE”. LOL!
Picture this: 30 kids deep in the woods for a leisurely hike. All of a sudden, one of the boys slaps his leg…and then the other. Soon all of the kids are slapping and screaming. The bees were swarming and the kids were running like chickens (into the deeper part of the woods). The hike ended with loads and loads of benadryl. Even the dog got stung π
My bee story. I was a camp councilor, carrying a child from the field to the lodge when I stepped on a bee, right on the instep of my right foot. It hurt, get very swollen etc. Then to add insult to injury I got stung in the exact same spot two weeks later, again with a camper on my back. My foot turned into a soccer ball! It was very painful. But inspite of the insult I still love bees and I really love honey. I would use this yarn and pattern to make the shawl for my sister whos husband is a bee keeper.
My cousin and I went to the same college and we both commuted. Whenever we could, we would drive in together. One hot, summer afternoon we were stopped at a red light in traffic when a bee flew in her window. She immediately screamed, closed her eyes, and took her hands off of the wheel. Neither one of us is clear on the details of what happened next, given all the girly screaming that ensued, but I swear the bee took one look at the unmanned vehicle and flew out as quickly as it flew in. From then on, my cousin was never allowed to drive with her windows down.
I normally stay as far away from bees as I can get since I’m somewhat allergic to them. I made the mistake of stepping on one when I was a kid and my poor foot ended up being so swollen I couldn’t walk on it for several days. After several days of meds I was finally able to walk again. There’s no way I want to repeat that experience.
Oh my goodness, that honey-color is perfect! Gorgeous! I love it. And that shawl is definitely on my “to-knit” list.
Here’s my bee story: A few years ago, I got up at the crack of dawn to go for a run (I was training for marathons back then). I’d gotten about a mile from my apartment when I felt what I knew to be a stinging insect fly into my mouth (to be perfectly honest, this *might* actually be a wasp story…I’m pretty sure it was a bee, but I’m not an expert on classifying bugs that happen to be in my mouth). I’m utterly, completely, irrationally afraid of stinging insects, but I actually managed to stay calm, and tried to gently get the thing to leave my mouth. I almost succeeded, but on the way out, it stung me. On the inside of my lip. I ran back home, woke my roommate up for help, and tried to find something I could put on it, but you can’t ingest most of the things that are supposed to work for bee stings, so I just took a couple benadryl and fell asleep with my face on an icepack to try to keep it from swelling. It didn’t work. It swelled up so much that I looked like I’d had lip implants, and any time I tried to smile, I wound up making this bizarre “tough grrl”/elvis-impersonator sneer, and it lasted for over a week! It was bad. But I kept forgetting how swollen it was and smiling at people anyway, and didn’t understand why I got so many confused looks back!
Wow, that got a bit wordy…I think I’m feeling rambly after a full day of packing and moving.
Not a favorite bee story, but my most memorable. I was about 7 and had gone to the zoo with my family. As we were heading back to the car I ran to be the first one there. When I got there I plopped down on the grass next to the car and sat right on a bee! It was a very painful ride home.
This is actually a good bee memory. When I was a little girl, my grandfather raised a little hive of bees in his backyard. Every once in a while, when I was sick or sad or had scraped my knee or something, he’d cut me a piece of honeycomb that I could chew on for a while. My family says that that’s the reason for my uber-sweet tooth — no one else in the family likes sweets nearly as much. Plus, I’ve never been stung!
Hmmm a bee story…. About 6 years ago my then new husband and I went camping with a bunch of kids including his grandson. Little grandson was about 4 years old and was having a grand old time until he tripped and fell hand first into the fire pit! Ouch! Poor kid cried 4 hours on end and into the wee hours of the morning. The next day, we went about our busines hiked, swam, ate lunch etc. Then, as soon as the watermelon came out so did the bees! There were so many bees. Little grandson got really excited to see the bees and decided he was going to shoo them away by flapping his hands at them. This was not good idea… Poor thing got stund by one of those bees on the same hand he hand burned the day before!!!
Ouch!
Then on our way out of the campground as I was sitting in the front see a bee flew in – the darn thing stung on my earlob:(
that yarn color is simply amazing! And I agree…I like those monkey socks the best!
bee story…the one I remember the most wasn’t to me, but to my brother. we were visiting our neighbor that had a couple horses. My brother was afraid of horses but we got him up there. all was well for a bit, then something spooked the horse, it took off, brother clinging for dear life. The horse went to the barn…the door was the stacked type (bottom and top opens). Sounds cliche but the bottom was open, top closed…but to make matters worse, a bee’s nest was on the edge of the top door. So bro was knocked off when he hit the door as the horse went in but also stung repeatedly in the stomach when he hit the nest as well. At that time, I was typical hateful sister and thought that was just hilarious! I’m mature now π
So last summer Daniel, Corey, and Josh were pretty bored. So one of them gets the genius idea to go sledding down the enormous hill in Daniel’s backyard in a kiddy pool. Daniel decided that this idea was lacking some important planning, like how to avoid the eight billion trees growing on the 45 degree slope. Josh and Corey jumped in the kiddy pool and went careening down the hill, somehow avoiding all the trees until the bottom where they landed in a mysterious pile of bushes and old logs and thorns. Just hearing the moans of vague agony from the thorns was pretty funny, especially since they were too far down for us to really see them clearly. So they got up and kind of brushed themselves off, and we hear Corey in the distance screaming “BEES!” And then we heard Josh screaming “Where? OH GOD, BEES!” And then we saw Josh and Corey scrambling up the hill followed by what Corey called “a black cloud of angry death.” I guess it kind of escaped their attention when they were on the top that the hill was covered in wet leaves, so we got a good ten minutes of quality entertainment watching them scream and slide and push each other back to get ahead. When they did get to the top, Josh whipped off his shirt and started beating in on the ground and bees were pouring out of it. Corey was shaking his head trying to get the bees out, and then they ran into the front yard, because apparently up the hill wasn’t far enough away from the angry bees, and threw themselves under the sprinklers in the fetal position. They would later describe the incident as “Hardcore, dude.”
Girl Scout Day Camp when I was about … eight. First day of camp, we’re led off to our “campsite” to pitch our tent, by our approximately fifteen year old counselor. Where the counselor proceeds to hammer the tent peg into an underground bees’ nest, so bees come swarming up out of the ground and every last one of the thirty or so campers in our group spends the first hour of the first day of camp getting treated with baking soda and water to keep the stings from swelling too much. You really never do get a second chance to make a first impression.
My now 15 year old son was about a year old and as I was walking up my sisters porch I saw the bees. I kinda ran/jumped and got into the house, only to hear him crying and screaming, yup, there was a bee on his face and it got him. Talk about freak out and the guilt ugh! For years he was completed scared to death of all bees. Love the shawl and the honey colored yarn, hope I win! I think I need a peanut and honey sandwich now.
Here is my favorite bee story, hands down:
http://picasaweb.google.com/plhokie/BeeShot/photo#5092077872736785874
Check it out-picture is worth a thousand words!!
And I really just loved your picture of the “honeycomb” cake of yarn-it was so cool!
I don’t have a particularly interesting story but as I was wracking my brain trying to come up with an entry for this contest I had a sudden vivid flashback to when I was young. I was probably 8 or 9 and I had crept into the kitchen and quietly opened the cupboards, not to sneak cookies like a normal child but to sneak a piece of honeycomb. How I loved its waxy goodness.
I haven’t remembered that in years. Thanks for helping me reconnect with my younger self. The only problem is that now I have a serious honeycomb craving π
bees have a lot of meaning for me. “emily” means industrious (constantly, regularly, or habitually active or occupied. how else do i knit?) and bees are the symbol of industry. thus i take pride in my well fitting name… and the crafts in which i produce… often!!!
my parents had hives. i am absolutely enamored with Burt’s Bees products. the more honey the better: in tea, yogurt, gummy bears, candles, lotion. there are so many uses for everything a bee produces. and my favorite of all the bees: the big wooly bumble bee.
That is a beautiful pattern and the yarn goes very well with it. I am amazed at how many bee stories there are.
My bee story: About 7 years ago I went to a friends wedding in the middle of August. I wore a very cute little black skirt that wrapped around and had little frog style closures that had bees on them. A real bee must have been offended because it went under the back of my skirt and stung my tush. I had to stand at the back during the wedding with ice on my tush and I didn’t sit for the whole reception. As painful as that was I still love bees and their honey-and I am glad I can laugh about it now. π
my favorite bee story …
once when i was young, probably 8 or 9, i was playing in the guest room of my house where i usually didn’t go. my mother was cleaning in her bedroom, and i realized there was a really nasty bee in the room. a hornet or wasp of some sort that is definitely looking to sting someone. i called her in immediately (which i still do) and she took a cup and a rag, caught it, and attempted to set it free. my fearless mother (who taught me how to knit, by the way) was stung by the bee, and dropped the cup on the carpet and i immediately started crying even though nothing had happened to me.
this past year, at college, i was trying to nap with the window open and as i was falling asleep, a huge buzzy bee flew in and wouldn’t leave. i panicked, and no one was in the dorm. i called my fearless mother, who actually stayed on the phone with me for about a half an hour, talking me down from the ledge, trying to advise me on how to get rid of it while she was hysterically laughing. eventually it flew out on its own. these are my favorites by far. the yarn is gorgeous. i can’t wait to see how it turns out.
When my son was 5 and my daugher was 3, we fell in love with an old house and were looking at it with the builder who was selling it. There was a bee buzzing around that riled up the children – they were racing around trying to avoid it at all costs. About a week later we went back to the house and met with the seller to make an offer. My son, upon seeing the man, immediately piped up and said “We’ll take the house, without the bee”! How cute was he?
LOVE the honey colored yarns! I have lots of little bee stories (and some wasp stories, but that’s not what you asked for). Do you know the saying ‘a swarm in may is worth a bale of hay and a swarm in june is worth a silver spoon but a swarm in july is not worth a fly’? We had a swarm alight in/on our house and somebody was very happy to come take them away. Once I saw bees laying dead on the snow, maybe in March or April. Obviously a swarm in early April just isn’t a good idea for anybody. Last trip I took, I spent a couple hours in the airport talking to a beekeeper. Did you know that all honeybees/domestic bees around the world are a single species that has been overbred and is subject to a nasty mite infection? There are serious issues here involving lots of money and crop pollination. And nobody wants the wild africanized bees-too aggressive. Oh, and did you see in the national geographic recently about how the native people here viewed the honeybee? As a harbinger of doom. Not native to here. Whites brought it, and if native people saw a honeybee, they knew what else was coming.
Um…bee story? Well, there was that time in first grade… We were on a field trip that involved being outside somewhere. I was wearing a yellow windbreaker. We came upon a swarm of yellowjackets, or they came upon us, and my teacher freaked out and pulled my windbreaker off of me because she for some reason believed that my wearing yellow was going to make all the bees attack me. Of course they didn’t. But I’ll never forget my teacher dragging my jacket off my body. Dotty old woman. I later heard she got fired for verbally abusing students about ten years after I was in her class…but that has nothing to do with bees.
I’ve got a bee story for ya. A crappy bee story. When I was about 8 years old, I was out riding my bike around the neighborhood. I lived in a really small town, dirt roads and all that good stuff. I noticed when I was almost home that there was a GIANT BUMBLE BEE flying behind me, and I totally wigged out. I peddled faster and faster and finally ended up in the driveway, where I promptly pulled a JUMPOFFANDRUN off the bike. Duh. Bees like it when you run. Makes it challenging. So the little (or BIG) s.o.b. makes a BEE line right for the back of my head and gets me one. I ran into the house, crying like a babbling brook, and sit on the couch and lean my head back onto the back cushion…where there laid a wasp who got me right next to where the bee got me. OWIE!
Bee story, eh? Well, let’s see…
How about the time I was driving cross-country, after not driving anywhere for a few months during college (a, I was broke, and b, there was public transport where I was at), and I kept hearing something funny coming from the air conditioning vents… I’d turn down the radio, and the humming would seem to go away, or it’d sound like it was just the tires whining, or something totally mechanical that I just. do. not. get.
Finally, I was stopped to get gas in Oregon, where they pump your gas for you, and the guy said he heard something. Asked me to pop my hood.
Turns out there was a GIANT BEE’S NEST IN MY ENGINE. I was hearing them all saying a collective “WTF!?” when suddenly their sheltered home became a very hot and very MOBILE (as in 75 mph, mobile) home. The guy whooped like a little girl and ran for the door, and I rolled up the windows and shut all the vents, and they had to call in AAA to come TOW ME to a garage so they could spray some kind of noxious-fumed chemical on it and let it sit for several hours while they figured out a way to dig the rest of the nest out of my engine.
Do I win? I think I have pictures somewhere if I dig far enough. π (I totally love that wooly wonka colorway — I have the pattern already, so you could totally pass that on to another winner, too. :>)
The only bee story I can think of happened when I was about 11. I had never been stung by a bee before and we were at a 3-day sleepaway camp for my middle school. I felt a sharp pain and thought it was a mosquito. I slapped it away and wiped what I thought was mosquito guts onto the side of a tree and immediately began itching at the bite. It wasn’t until two hours later, when my friends pointed to the palm-sized hive (haha) on my thigh that we realized I’d been stung. During the rest of the trip, my friends kept laughing and singing, “I’m smushing up my baby bumblebee…won’t my mamma be so proud of me…”
My bee story: When I was about 8 I was playing barefoot in the yard when I felt something stick my toe. When I looked at my foot, I saw a bee stuck to my toe. I had just learned that bees die when they loose their stinger so I hopped to the drive way to try to pull the stinger out bee and all to save the bee. My mom came out and saw the bee and knocked it off. At first I was upset that the bee died then I realized that it hurt.
I have a lovely Staffordshire Terrier/ Pitbull named Gracie. She’s gentle and pretty even-keeled, except when it comes to bees. Not actual bees, just the word “bee”. It sends her ducking for cover and hiding her eyes (because, of course, when your eyes are hidden you are invisible). She’ll wake out of a dead sleep and hustle if “bee” gets dropped in conversation. So, imagine her delight when the migratory hummingbirds rolled through this spring and the African Grey (Mitty- a wordy bird) happily announced, “Bee!” everytime one passed her window. It took no time flat for the bird to notice the connection between the bee sighting and the diving dog, and she still plays the occasional game of “Grace…Graaaace…BEE!”
Wow, bees and honey conjure up some really great memories as a kid. When I was little (I’m 53 1/2 – hee!) My dad used to get honey in a mason jar from some friends of his that had the honeycomb in it. I can remember sitting there watching my dad with a plate of honeycomb with honey dripping over it and a pile toast next to a stick of soft butter. Daddy would scoop up some honeycomb and honey then spread it on a corner of the toast – just a biteful – and then scoop up some soft butter and plop that on top of the honey/honeycomb and then pop it in his mouth! Then he would reach for his black coffee and slurp it down. He LOVED that!! I can still see the image of delight on his face even though he’s been gone 17 years now! Lots of great memories of Daddy related to food – maybe that’s why I have a weight problem…
A more recent story happened about 2-3 weeks ago. In my job I plan events. I was meeting with a rental company and a coworker to walk out the area where an event was planned for. They were standing there oblivious to me while all of a sudden this HUGE black bumblebee dived bombed me! I was screaming and crying and flailing about just 2-3 feet from them and they didn’t even pay attention until I was so overrought that I was actually crying and laughing at the same time!! By the time they finally noticed me – the bee went on his merry way and I was left there choking back the tears and the laughter – it was pretty funny – even though I was scared out of my wits – over a silly bee!
instead of a story, here’s one of my very favorite recipes with honey. it’s my best-guess deconstruction of the salad dressing that was served at our wedding. all measurements are approximate since i never measure anything!
2 tablespoons champagne vinegar, 1 tablespoons lemon juice, 1 teaspoon dijon mustard, 2 tablespoons minced shallots, 1 tablespoon minced parsley, 1 tablespoon honey. fresh black pepper and salt to taste. mix all that together and slowly add 1/2 cup extra virgin olive oil while whisking. delicious.
When my children were very young, we lived in this magical place bordering a large forest in Oregon. Lots and lots of wildlife, elk ,deer, wildcats, and even a bear. I have to say though that the most impressive wild things for me were the honey bees that lived in the wall of the ancient barn in our field.
We discovered them one spring when my son and I were picking berries. There was a humming sound that grew louder and louder and was a bit scary, especially when the dark cloud started coming our way. We hid under the berry branches and watched as they filled a huge portion of the sky. After what seemed to be at least an hour they started to form a ball on a branch of a fir tree not far from us. A huge very lovely ball of bees.
It was one the of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. Needless to say, the color was magnificent, but more than that it was the energy — so much life in a ball. There had to be hundreds of them. A ball of bees hanging from a tree. Very cool!
They swarmed every year; we looked forward to this, marked our summer by it. When we moved, it was one of the things that I missed the most.
Our honey bee friends are not doing so well these days,so maybe the knitting mojo created by the Anns will feed their little bee souls.
bzzzzzzz
That Bee Fields is stunning! I can’t wait to see yours when it’s done. My bee story is a bit different… My nickname is Marybeezo and it has been since I was in middle school. My sister said I was always running around, doing stuff (multi-tasking, as we call it nowadays), involved in a million activities during and after school and got good grades. She said I was… yep, you got it… busy as a bee. 30+ years later, my family still calls me Marybeezo… or just Beezo. The bee is my sometimes mascot, e.g., my AOL IM character. I probably still do a ton of things at the same time, but now they’re mostly for my kids. Thanks for hosting another contest.
Once when I was a kid, my best friend and I were playing outside, and we found a little honeybee just crawling around on the ground. It was really lethargic, and it wouldn’t fly or move except to crawl in circles. We kept an eye on it for a few hours, and in that time we managed to get so attached that when it died later that day, we buried it in our pet cemetary with a little marker stating that it died “of natural causes”.
I like to think that by giving it a proper burial, we made up for some of the bugs my brother was so mean to during those same years.
Now I’m wishing I had ordered the buckwheat honey kit instead! Oh well, I’m sure I will love mine when it FINALLY gets here.
My best friend Betsy went to a year or two of college, then got married and had her first child in 1979. She started working retail at a large department store chain in Denver. She never complained about her work, her terrible hours or the fact that she could never seem to be promoted to a buyer when she was years and years of experience ahead of youngsters that came in and within months were given the position. But she never really seemed happy at the end of the day.
When the store chain (Joslins, then Lord and Taylor) went out of business (5 years ago maybe???) she stayed unemployed for a few months and then told me she was going to become a bee keeper. Now Betsy has a business, and has unbraidled passion for her work. She loves her days and nights working her hives and spinning her honey from the combs. She has pride in her work. When we talk on the phone into the evening (she’s been 1200 miles away from me for 29 years) I smile through our entire conversation while she talks about her bees and teaches me more that I thought I’d ever know.
When I was in the fourth grade, one day a bumblebee flew in the open classroom window and became entangled in my very thick, waist length hair. I jumped up and began to run around the room shrieking (as only a girl can) with the teacher in hot pursuit telling me to stand still and quit running. Eventually she caught up to me and managed to push my hair this way and that until the bee became untangled and flew away without stinging me. I’m not sure which of us was the happiest to be free…me or the bee!
I think bees are beautiful little things, but I’m afraid I am terribly allergic. Here’s how I found out. I was at the cottage with my family(I was about 4 or 5)and since we didn’t have an indoor bathroom, we had to use the “outhouse” to do our ahem.. business. I woke up really early, like 5 or 6 am, and toddled on down to have my morning pee in the outhouse, when I must have disturbed a nest of bees living in the roof, and had one swoop down and sting me in the lip. I went screaming into the cottage, and almost made my granny pass out. My whole face was swelling up to the point you couldn’t even recognize me. Luckily my grandpa had some benadryl on hand and was able to get some in me before my throat closed completely. My mom said it was the longest half hour ride to the hospital she has ever had. Thankfully, I’m here to tell the tale!
Here’s my story…
In the 60’s there was a pant style called “elephant pants”. They were wide legged pants from the top right to the bottom. My Mom made me a pair and I wanted to live in them 24/7. It was summer and a group of friends and I were at the park, and naturally I wore those pants. We were running across a field full of high grass and wildflowers, which was also (apparently) home to a whole lot of bees. And the bees found my wide leg pants very appealing. We got to our final destination and everyone was standing around talking and laughing. I kept batting at my pants, which seemed to have taken on a life of their own with the way they were moving. That’s when we heard the buzzing and realized I had a half dozen or more bees up each pant leg! Between hysterical shrieks (mine) and the giggling laughter of my friends, somebody finally suggested I should take the pants off, but by then I had several bee stings on my upper thighs and knees. After that day the elephant pants were put away and rarely worn, because every time I put them on I was sure I could feel something moving inside the legs. They were white with black polka dots and I’m willing to bet my mother still has them in a box somewhere along with everything else from my childhood.
Ok I’m gonna be the odd one here. I do bee venom therapy for RA. So I purposely have my husband sting me 4/6 times, three times a week. My Grandfather(my Moms Dad) is a beekeeper, so I grew up going to the honey house and eating comb straight out of the box. He would pick the bees up by their wings and moved them around. Now my parents have 4 hives at their house. They have already collected over 50 jars of honey this year. If I win I would love to make the shawl for a Xmas present for my Mom.
BTW I can’t wait to see your Bee and the next set of Monkeys(I’m addicted too)
I’ve been stung by a bee twice. Both times were pool related. The first time I simply stepped on the poor thing. The second time…
It was a band pool party. I’d changed into my swimsuit once I got there so my clothes were sitting on my towel on the grass. I’m a bit of a waterbaby so I didn’t get out until it was nearly time to go home. I dried off and took my clothes into the bathroom to change. All was well until I put on my underwear and got stung right… well, I’m sure you can guess. That hurt like a mother fucker, let me tell you.
Overall I like bees. I’m much more careful now. π
I love bees……in fact, I wish we had more bees this summer to pollinate my garden…however, I digress.
I have a sister who is a bit (very) neurotic and was the queen of tattletales when we were growing up….still is, actually. One day when I was sitting next to her many many years ago, I heard a buzzing sound. I moved a little closer…yup, still buzzing. I asked her….”do you hear that buzzing?” She snapped back some smartass response, so I just let her bee… Come to find out, she had a bee stuck in her ponytail and a bee being a bee, well hee put his little stinger in the back of her neck a few times. Now, beeing that I was just a wee thing, well maybe not that wee, but remembering her nasty response to my questions…………I could not help but chuckle….heehee.
A few years ago, I worked at Early’s Honey Stand. Early’s started during the depression by selling honey and country ham next to a turnpike on one of the major routes running north to south in Middle TN. Our honey was locally “grown” and we would have to pick it up from the man that gathered it from the hives and put it into jars.
When the honey was locally grown, it would help combat pollen allergies for plants local to the area. Since the honey farm has closed, to make way for a subdivision, I don’t know what people in this area are going to do now!
(the Oregon Red Clover Honey is GORGEOUS!!!)
Wow, what a great colorway!
On the bees… A friend of my dad from Czech Republic brought him a GIGANTIC 5 liter jar of homemade honey a couple of years ago. His friend passed away last year, but we’re still enjoying the honey he brought. It never goes bad just like our memories of my dad’s dear friend Wartslav.
Gasp! That yarn is gorgeous!
My most interesting bee story is actually probably my most traumatic. Cue my 9th birthday party. We had it at an outdoor area near my house. They keep a “Little Farm” there, so copious amounts of cows, chickens, geese, sheep, and goats are constantly making a delightful amount of noise.
We did a picnic sort of thing, and when we brought out the cake, we did the whole singing thing, and once everybody had their cake, I was allowed to dig into my piece.
Unfortunately, the wait was painful. Seriously. Sometime in the minutes that it took to cut the cake, a bee had landed on my cake, and yes, of course, I managed to eat it. It stung the roof of my mouth, and I’m pretty sure I swallowed it, though to this day, I’m not sure. I probably don’t really want to know, either.
Nevertheless, I’m glad I’ll never be turning 9 again!
Beautiful yarn and patttern. I’m from the south and we call everyone honey, so much so that my daughter started calling my mother “Honey” instead of the usual mimi or grandma. My recipe is very simple. . . for grilled summer fruit like peaches and pineapple mix equal portions honey and lime juice and finely chop a generous sprinkle of fresh mint and basil, pour over fruit before grilling. This can also be used as a dip.
Wow that yarn is gorgous! And the shawl is going to be spectacular!
As for my entry, I found this recipe (http://www.fooddownunder.com/cgi-bin/recipe.cgi?r=146776) years ago for Leah Rabin’s honey cake. I’ve always intended to make it for Rosh Hashannah but never have — maybe this is the year!
As a child I used to close the petals of hollyhocks, trapping a bee inside and then carry it around for a few minutes, listening to the angry buzzing. The trick was to throw the flower and run fast as I could, I never got stung but could really run fast in those days!!!
My story isn’t that interesting but when I was little and would get stung my mother put meat tenderizer on the sting. I loved licking the stuff off. I know it sounds gross, but I was little.
Thanks for the contest!
when we were kids growing up in akron ohio, our dad kept bee hives in the back yard. we were the only family i ever heard of that had bees as family pets. i remember that every time someone got stug we got flack..hehehe.. dad kept his bees until mom got too sick and needed all his time. lovely bees. now whenever i give to heifer it’s for bees. when i gave Dad’s bee bible (a.i. root) to my son he said, ‘i guess i can assume this was grandpa’s?” ‘you needn’t assume i replied and showe him dad’s signature on the fly leaf of the book. i never remember a time when that book was not in our house. Bees of Greatness
while certainly not a prize-winning story, bees always make me think of my friend, gabe. i’ve known gabe since we were about seven. if you don’t know him, gabe looks increadibly intimidating: he’s about 6’3″, about 250lb, shaved head, long goatee, with tattooed sleeves from his wrists to his elbows on both arms. if i saw this man while alone at night, i’d walk faster. in actuality, gabe is a big teddy bear. who happens to be terrified of bees. not allergic to, simply terrified by. as a result this great, big tough looking guy sees a bee and proceeds to scream like a little girl and run. i think i’ve seen this diplay about a dozen times now and every time it makes me just about dissovle into giggles.
Wow… what a perfect color!
My bee story…
When I was in junior high, I lived about 2 miles from school. I walked or rode my bike unless the weather was truly awful.
One day, as I was walking home, a bee joined me, flying along side me, circling me etc. Had I been with my friends that day, someone certainly would have freaked out, and much hand waving and flapping would have ensued (also shrieking, I’m sure). As it happened, I was alone. So I said “hello bee”. The bee landed on me, and rode over half the way home resting on my arm or shoulder, flying up every so often and then setting back down on my arm again.
To this day, bees are fine with me as long as there is no strafing involved. Horse and deer flies, however, cause that hand flapping thing. They BITE! Alas, my family doesn’t like bees. Silly kids (DH included there). π
What a great contest! It was fun reading all the “bee stories”…now I have to add my own – a warm memory. Thank God for bees! My mother grew pickling cukes in her garden. I remember eating those cukes, still warm from the sun, with honey drizzled on them. That was supposed to be an “old world” remedy for hay fever. I don’t know if it worked, but it sure tasted good! PS. The yarn is really “sweet”!
I can atually share a true bee story that took place about 18 years ago. My 2 sons at the time about 4 and 5 years old were in a neighbors backyard I was in the house when I heard screaming. A mom knows the screams of playing from the screams of terror. I ran out of the house and when I got to them bees were all around. I grabbed them one under each arm (you get strength in times like that). Running back I was yelling for my husband (fortunately home). He came running out and grabbed one boy from me. We got them upstairs in the shower. They were even in their ears and in my pockets! We took them to the ER where we stayed a couple of hours making sure they did not react to about 30 bee stings each!!! They are now young men and not afraid of bees unlike me but I’ll knit them together!!
What a generous price you are offering! Thank you.
That yarn is gorgeous!
Ok., what’s a good story without some sex, right?
I was in Kenya (1980something). It was the dry season – when its good to go on safari (tour the national parks) and find large mammals gathered at various watering holes. It must have also been mating season: there were lions (slam, bam, thank you ma’am) and elephants (wow, uhm, large) and monkeys, gators, hippos, birds… A complete life lesson in the birds and the bees – except I had not (yet) noticed insect mating. It was astonishing and after a while it felt a bit voyeurish.
One morning, I got up early to go to the outhouse. Inside were bees, doing it too. I just stood and watched. I have this memory in my head http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/nova/bees/making.html scroll down for mating bees) except the backdrop is all weathered wood, a splitery bench and a stinky hole.
And there’s a Masai guard wondering what’s taking me so long at the outhouse, he got nervous and came looking for me. He wanted to shoo the bees out and I wanted to watch.
OMG I had no IDEA that STR had laceweight..where have I been??? and in such a gorgeous large skein too!!! My honey/bee story is my kids when small, loved honey, with PB on their toast…drippy, sticky, sweet, honey all over everything including the honey pot EVERY morning. It became a game to see who could have their toast and honey/PB withOUT making a mess. Needless to say neither one of them “won” the game very often!! Today they are busy trying to discourage the spills with their own kids! ahhh, I love how it all goes around:)
What a contest and you are sooooo generous!!! Here’s to more honey in the world…ss
Well, this is actually more of a honey story. Ever wanted to know how honey gets from the hive to the bottle? I can show you with pictures! Come take a look! http://ourlair-faren.blogspot.com/2007/07/adventures-in-honey.html
My favorite way to enjoy Honey…
A thick slice of my homemade rye bread, spread with a thin layer of butter and drizzle with honey. I will often take a slice of this folded in half for my mom and her friend Judy as a morning snack and we all enjoy this together with our coffee.
You are a lucky girl with all that knitty talent surrounding you! Beautiful!
All I’ve got is random bee trivia:
– Previous owners of our house once kept bees.
– My husband’s uncle used to keep bees.
– Our favorite honey is Anna’s Firewood Honey from Whole Food’s Market because it doesn’t crystalize before we get to the bottom of the big jar.
I’m out on any more bee stories. π
Can I just call you honey? I love you!! π
xo
You are…..SWEET! I’ve never been STUNG by you! You are the knitting BUZZ! You FLY high in my book! I don’t get the HIVES knowing you! You do COMB your hair! So do I, just for the record! We have a knitting COLONY! And you are, in my book, the QUEEN BEE!
(did I miss any??)xoxo
Since I have nothing but nasty sting stories, I’ll share a little ditty I learned in camp. There are hand motions to go along, but you’ll just have to imagine them.
I’m bringing home a baby bumble bee
Won’t my Mommy be so proud of me
I’m bringing home a baby bumble bee
Ouch, it stung me!
I’m squishing up my baby bumble bee
Won’t my Mommy be so proud of me
I’m squishing up my baby bumble bee
Yuck! What a mess!
I’m licking up my baby bumble bee
Won’t my Mommy be so proud of me
I’m licking up my baby bumble bee
Ugh, I don’t feel so good.
…
It keeps going until finally we sweep up the bumble bee and Mommy is all proud. A bizarre song, but I loved singing it!
i don’t really have a bee story, but here goes one anyway. i grew sunflowers for the first time last year and a lot of bees liked to be near them. one of our sunflowers was about to collapse so we cut it, put it in a vase, and smelled it.
oh it smelled like honey. my so said no, that is what honey should smell like.
here’s a photo of a bee and a sunflower from last year:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/ejchang/200302984/in/set-72057594092378082/
Well, all I’ve got is our home remedy for bee stings. And it really works!
Pickle juice.
Doesn’t matter what kind of pickles, sweet, dill, bread and butter, it all works.
And it really does. Even on a freaked out 5 year old. My DD got stung (her second time) this year at vacation bible school and I ran and found some relish in the fridge at church. 10 minutes later, all was well.
We keep an empty (of pickles) jar of juice in the fridge at all times, just in case.
Wish I could join in the Babette, but all that sewing together would lead to the biggest, oldest UFO ever!
no bee story – I did however go directly from your blog to Bluemoon and place my order! I was admiring your shawl bee-ginnings and am wondering about your stitch markers?? Where did you get them? I’ve seen some copper ones on ESTY -and thought may-bee that’s what you’re using????
signed:
buzzing with curiosity!
The Oregon Red Clover Honey is beautiful. I don’t have so much a bee story as a honey story. Every time I see honey I have to laugh and remember my Master’s graduation party. One of my older cousins came to the party and lacking any other suitable gift at home he grabbed a wonderful item right out of his kitchen. He didnβt seem to see any oddity in giving honey as a gift. My whole family burst out laughing when I he handed it to me. He said, βWhat? It tastes good.β Oh yeah did I mention, the jar was half full. Iβll never look at honey without thinking of that day.
Oh my! How do you manage to keep yourself from eating that yarn? It’s yummy!
I’ve always been wary of bees, ever since when I stepped on one at our cottage’s shed when I was six. I always walk barefoot at the cottage, but still today I will go get my shoes for the shed. Always. (Not that I’ve seen any bees there since.)
Not a traditional bee story, this one has to do with Winnie the Pooh and the Honey Tree, and my youngest sister. After watching the bees attack Winne while he’s trying to steal honey from their tree, my sister decided she was a bee. She was about four at the time. So she started poking everyone saying she was a bee. The only way to get around this poking was to pretend to be holding an umbrella and saying “Tut, tut, it looks like rain.” Winnie was pretending to be a rain cloud in the movie, so Christopher Robin was helping the disguise by pretending it was about to rain as if Pooh really were a rain cloud. Not sure how this connected with her being a bee, but it is the mind of a four year old. After a couple of days of being constantly poked, we told her that bees don’t poke, they sting from stingers on their butts. Bad idea. Instead of getting poked, you now had to watch out for a buzzing noise followed by a little rear end rushing down the hall towards you. This went on for quite some time. One day, a bunch of my friends came over and Amy saw her chance. So, she comes tearing down the hall, bottom first, to sting my friends. They all have looks of confusion on their faces, and were not prepared for the attack, which had a domino effect. That little bee took three of us down at once.
That’s my favorite bee story!
This needs some context. I love Eddie Izzard the comedian and frequently quote bits of his comedy to friends and family. Some people accuse me of having an ‘Eddie voice’ when making a joke. One of my favourite bits is about beekepers (link to video here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xs-tl6GBOBo ) and I was acting this bit out (including running around miming having a swarm follow me) when the estate agent brought round some people to view the house we were selling! Most embarrasssing moment of my life….
I don’t really have a bee story other than watching my little pup chase the bumble bees in our yard each morning. I think they must sleep in our flowers because each morning when we go outside she stands captivated looking at them. And, eventually one emerges. She then proceeds to chase it and pounces around the yard after it. Not much of a story but I find it adorable to watch.
When I was very young, maybe 6, I went over to a friend’s house. Someone had left a bumble bee in a jar and it died. I was fascinated by bees but knew enough to stay away from live ones. Finally, a chance to examine one close up… I bet you didn’t know you can get stung by a dead bee. Yup, I was.
My story comes from 30+ years ago when I was a child. My little brother was terrified of bees. We had three fruit trees in the back of our yard, and subsequently had a lot of bees. One afternoon while we were outside playing, he accidentally kicked a fallen apple covered with bees, and one landed on his sock. He frantically made a dash for the house, screaming all the way, and in his hysteria couldn’t manage to get the screen door open. He was pounding and kicking on the door, and managed in one blow to kick straight through the metal panel at the bottom of the door. It took my mother thirty minutes of pounding with a hammer to get that panel back in place later on. Amazing what a fear of bees and the subsequent adrenaline rush can do for a little boy’s strength.
He didn’t get stung, by the way.
It reminds me I should call my brother. I wonder if he is still that afraid of bees?
Well my story is a story of obsession. I like honey, but my husband, my husband LOVES honey. He drinks honey with a little tea in it, he eats honey with a little cornbread on the side. But the funny part is that he HATES to have sticky fingers! So watching him eat honey is this straange dance to get the honey in his mouth before it gets on his fingers. Seriously we go through so much honey in this house that I buy it at Costco in 1/2 gallon jugs at least twice a month, that is a gallon of honey every month. I think that I need to make this shawl.
I love the taste of fancy honeys and I love to experiment with weird desert and candy ideas. When my sister and I were growing up in Arkansas, we would dribble honey on top of big ice cubes and put it back in the freezer for a few minutes. If the honey was too warm originally, it would slide off the ice cube and make a sticky mess. But if it was a little cool to begin with, it would sit in a little blog on top of the half-moon ice cubes our ice maker made, and after about 10 minutes in the freezer the honey would turn into a slightly chewy little honey candy.
You are so sweet! The shawl truly is perfect and the bee stories are great. My sister made us mead for one Christmas and it is the very essence of good cheer. Here’s my story:
When I was fresh out of highschool I joined the reserve forces medical corps. We were doing medical backup on maneuvers with our American friends in Washington state when a platoon of young, handsome, brawny infantry stumbled on a beehive.
We had half of them in the field hospital crying for their mommies and swelling up dangerously. They could have marched across mountains and captured victory from the enemy, but were stopped by nature.
I went off to college in Macon, Georgia (I’m from Minnesota) there was a man/boy involved, of course. During the summer between my 1st and 2nd year I went to visit boyfriend’s best friends folks. Daddy was a beekeeper and asked if I would be interested in helping him with the bees. Yes! Even though he had been keeping bees and collecting honey for a long time, he was very afraid. I watched him suit up and prepare his smoker – shaking all the while. It was a lesson for me – that if you really want to do something, you can, and being afraid isn’t a good enough excuse to make you stop or say no. Now every time I eat honey I think of him.
It’s hard when you want to love bees but can’t….a sting might send me into anaphylactic shock…not good. I found this out while staying at a friend’s lakehouse in North Carolina. We were hiking through the woods and accidentally stepped on a ground beenest (who knew!!). We ran like hell and escaped with only a few stings each. Within minutes I watched with horror as scarlet streaks raced up my arm. I gulped about 20 benedryl and made it through. I now carry an epi-pen as the next time I get stung, it’ll likely be worse!
This is a sad situation for me as I actually quite like bees, love honey, and even appreciate a lot of bee and hive symbolism and folklore. Bees are a great symbol for women!!!
Back in the days when my parents used a manual rotary mower to cut the dense and lovely bluegrass that grew in our yard, they would section the yard to make the turns a little more managable. My little sister and I loved to play in the patterns that were created during the mow. I was about 5 and sat down in the lush grass–on top of a bumblebee! Then while jumping up and screaming, I put my hand back to my bottom for whatever reason a 5yearold would do that–3 stings on my tender bottom and another 4 on my hand. I never lost respect for bumblebees, but fortunately never have developed fear for our honeybee friends. –Janet
Beautiful yarn!
Bees freak me out, I had to scroll past that picture up there. But I was thinking the shawl might be quite like immersion therapy for my fear. Wrap myself in bees, you know?
Cara,
I love the both colors of the yarn and the Bee Fields Shawl has had me from the moment I first saw it!
My bee story is really two stories that go together and doesen’t involve real bees. When I was growing up my Grandmother whom I spend a lot of time with always wore a Bee pin. It was a pretty little silver bee and I loved it. When she passed on she was buried with it. It is one of those things that we still talk about ….remember when…type of things. Well about seven years after she passed on my Dad was a victim of homicide. When it came time for us to have to go to all of the court proceedings. I wanted something that I have with me that would give me strength and remind me of my Dad. Well I found a wonderful little bee pin and knew that is what I needed. I not only reminded me of my Dad but of my Grandmother too! They were both hard working and love the out doors and flowers. It still makes me happy to wear that pin and know in my heart that they both still love me.
I was wearing flip-flops last summer and walking on grass and a bee found it’s way between my foot and the bed of the flip-flop. Of course I ended up stepping on it and got stung. My right foot swelled up so much that it was quite difficult to walk and drive. My friend dubbed it “potato foot”.
My bee story happened about 10 years ago to my then 13 year old daughter. Her job was to mow the lawn every Saturday. She’s always been quite the dramatic one, so I barely flinched when I heard her screaming outside. The screaming got louder (ie. closer to the house) so I casually got up to see what was going on. WELL, she had mown over a nest of ground bees, and there was a whole cloud of them chasing her toward the house. She had been stung a few times, fortunately, she’s not allergic, so we coaxed the stingers out with baking soda paste and gave her a shot of Benadryl for “insurance”. She recovered in a couple of days from all of those stings, but never again mowed the lawn. π The Oregon Red Clover Honey is absolutely gorgeous. I may have to break the yarn buying freeze for this one.
I love the idea of making a honey-colored yarn for a bee shawl! It’s beautiful.
My bee story: I worked nights for at an apiary one summer in college. I had never been stung by a bee before, and the first night as I was pulling the frames filled with honey out of the hives, I got stung right where my fingernail meets the skin. It hurt like crazy all the way up my arm. That same day, the owner’s wife, who is deathly allergic to bee stings (ironic, huh?), fell down in the yard. Everyone panicked and went running toward her with the epi-pen and emergency kit. Turned out it was just a sprained ankle.
Lots of drama, but the honey sure is worth it.
I was a girl scout at a day camp. We were sitting around the fire ring and getting ready to make smores. We were each given a marshmallow and I wanted to make mine last as long as possible so I started to lick it. I wasn’t looking where I was licking and a bee landed on the marshmallow and I licked that bee right up and it stung me on the tongue…ouch!!!! The only thing they could give me to ease the pain was baking soda. I don’t know which was worse – tasting a tablespoon full of baking soda or the pain of that bee sting…and I hated girl scouts!!!
I’m out hiking with my husband, and somehow I get not one, but two bees down my shirt (a loose-fitting, v-neck t-shirt). I tore off the shirt, trying to get the bees off of me, getting stung all the while. My husband grabs my shirt and the bees start swarming around him, so he’s running down the trail waving my shirt over his head, leaving me standing there in my bra, cracking up the whole time.
This story recently came up while I was hiking in the woods with a bug-phobic friend. We were talking about what reasons people might have for fearing tiny, flying creatures. I told her this story from my childhood, which would justify a fear of bees but for some reason, it didn’t imprint on me in that way. I am not afraid of bees but it is 20-some years later and I still don’t like to walk where this happened:
My younger sister and I were playing at our house in rural Wisconsin. I think I was somewhere around 6 or 7 years old which would have made her around 2 or 3. We were frequently shooed out the door by our mom and left to entertain ourselves in the outdoors until she called us in for a check-in, a meal or a bath. On this particular day it was a bit chilly so we were dressed in long pants and jackets. We were on some sort of “adventure” which included walking around the woods looking for “treasures” on the ground. It was later decided that I must have stepped on a nest of ground hornets but all that I was aware of at the time was that I was suddenly feeling incredible pain over my entire body as a swarm of bees attacked me and to a lesser extent, my little sister. They had gotten inside of our clothes and were furiously stinging us. My mom came rushing out of the house and found us screaming and crying hysterically. Her mothering instincts kicked in immediately and she stripped us both down naked and started trying to brush the bees off of us. The drama died down and my sister and I found ourselves with head to toe bead stings. My mom’s solution was to immerse us in a bathtub of baking soda and water to help the pain and swelling go away. It is a miracle that I don’t feel afraid of bees. I’ve been stung since then, but this event was definitely the most memorable bee encounter in my life.
That is a gorgeous color even though I am usually not one for yellows.
I was born, raised, and still live in New York City so I’ve had minimal contact with bees. I was in Florida on vacation years ago and there was something buzzing around. I wasn’t thinking and swatted at it and then felt slight pain and something yellow and black flew away. It didn’t hurt that much so I don’t know if it was a bee/wasp sting or not. Luckily, this was before I developed an allergy to mosquito bites which happened right around when they started spraying for West Nile in the city.
I don’t really have a bee story, but I would BEE so happy if I won that yarn and pattern!! (Sorry for the terrible pun.)
Insult and injury
I headed off to second grade zooming down the steep hill I sled to school in winter. I was wearing my kicky brown plaid not-a-hand-me-down-from-my-sister-who-was-a-completely-different-shape-from-me dress with the long spaghetti cords that tied in the back and always came untied and dangled around my legs the rest of the day. I loved school with my pretty red-haired freckled young teacher. Out in the playground at recess I began playing on the see-saw with Helen. I was at the apex of the see-sawing when I felt a tickling on my right leg and reached down to swipe my cord away. You see it coming, don’t you?
The bee that had been hovering around my leg stung me on my hand. I screamed and fell off the see-saw landing stunned on the ground. Helen screamed and jumped off. And, as if in slow motion, my recently vacated end of the seesaw crashed down on my head. Taken to the school nurse, I announced very firmly, “I am going home!”
No one disagreed.
This really isn’t about bees so much as it is about a quote about bees. Eddie Izzard (already mentioned above) has a brilliant bit on beekeepers.
“My father was a beekeeper. My father’s father was a beekeeper. I wanna walk in their footsteps, and their footsteps were like this–‘AAAAAAAAH! AAAAAH! I’m covered in BEEEES!'”
My friend and I frequently watch Mr. Izzard together and when we met up in Rome for our respective spring breaks abroad, we were wandering around a little piazza and Chris spotted a bee. We both immediately looked at each other and went, “Ahhhhh! I’m covered in beeeeeeeeeeeeeeees!”
While everyone else thought we were nuts, we thought we were hilarious and had a good laugh over that. ’cause Italy is all about the bees, y’know?
Sadly, no bee stories here.
I did order the kit in Tupelo Gold — then, I ordered some Colourmart cashmere in light green for this shawl.
Then, I read that there is soon to be a rectangular version of Bee Fields, so I went ahead and ordered the Honey yarn, because it is just too yummy to pass up.
The last thing I need is to win more yarn for this shawl!!! LOL
thanks for the enablement, though!!
Kath
Your right – you do have a talent for pairing the perfect yarn with the perfect pattern – AND now you even INSPIRE the perfect yarn for the perfect pattern!! Mine is not a story BUT (and this is something I learned in a Master Gardener class from a horticulturist who specializes in flowering plants and shrubs) did you know that if a bumble bee is busy on a flower you actually can reach down and “pet” it and it will hardly stir. I’ve done it several times on a hot sunny day and it’s just an amazing feeling – all fuzzy and vibrating. AND also, if you haven’t read it, you simply must read The Secret Life of Bees – fabulous book!!
Allow me to share a long and humiliating bee story. When I was 10, I was riding my Schwinn My Fair Lady home from my friend’s house at dusk. Because I was stupid enough to wear flip-flops while riding, my feet slipped from the pedals, and my crotch came crashing down on the bar of the bike when my butt slid off the seat. Such exquisite pain. I stumbled onto the grass of the corner house, kicked off the sandals and lay there, seeing stars and trying to gather up the shreds of my dignity. I got up and headed for my bike, and just then I stepped on a bee. I must have–my foot was suddenly throbbing. I looked on the sole of my foot, and I could see the stinger of the bee that had given its life in defense of itself. I limped down the street walking my bike. Once I got home, the pain had overwhelmed me to the point that my mother decided I looked pale and shocky and ordered me to lay on the couch with my feet elevated so as to restore blood flow to my brain. Ah, to be 10 again.
I was meeting my husband’s aunt for the first time. We were at her house, just taking the bag from the trunk. I leant over and felt a sharp pain in my right maximii gluteii. Yup, I got stung by a bee in the BUTT right before meeting new family. I couldn’t sit for a week. Which of course included the weekend at the aunt’s place. Most uncomfortable. Both physically and emotionally.
That honey yarn is simply gorgeous!
Looking at your yarn cake that is all crisscrossy like honeycomb reminds me of being a kid and visiting the beekeeper’s shop about 90 minutes away from our home. Every time we passed, we would stock up on fresh honey. But the greatest revelation was the honeycomb. They sold honey in the comb that you could just eat, comb and all. Sticky, sweet, and so indulgent! Note to self… find a place where my kids can discover honeycomb.
Okay, I’ll play! Here’s my bee story:
One summer day, many, many moons ago, my big sister and I were going for a walk down the block to our friend’s house. She decided she was going to go barefoot and I told her I didn’t think it was a good idea. She laughed at me and and then proceeded to step on a bumble bee. Ouch.
Bee stories … hmmm
Why is it that you always get stung in the strangest places at the weirdest time? I think bees have a sick sense of humor. Recently I got stung in the bum while camping. Before that I actually stepped on one in my kitchen. What a bee was doing hanging out on my kitchen floor is beyond me. But perhaps the best one happened to my hubby. Was was on a motorcycle ride, totally geared up, leather pants, jacket, helmet, gloves and has almost no skin showing while he rides. Well, I bee flew right into his neck and stung him while he was flying down the road. Ouch.
My mother was terrified of bees, she would never sit outside and hated picnics and bbqs. Once my father was driving us to my aunts house when a bee flew in the open window, my mother started screaming and jumping up and down, my father started yelling for her to stop, my little brother starting crying because he didn’t know what was going on. Finally my mother opened the car door and ran out into the street, it was a good thing there was no traffic and my father had slowed down. He was furious, but then he started laughing, my mother was indignant that he was laughing at her, then she started lauging too. Fortunately no one was hurt and it became a running joke in my family for years afterwards.
Christmas of 19975 my brother bought our children a boxer puppy. We had no idea this gift was coming – nor did we realize the gift would keep on giving for 16 years!
One early summer – 1977 – my husband was painting the front of the house – Ben who was 4 at the time and Belle – the boxer pup who was 2 at the time were in the yard. The Azalias were in full bloom – and there were a few bees about. Paul looked down to see Belle batting at something – frisky little thing she was. When he realized what she was up to – he called to her to quit – and called for me. Too Late! Belle got stung right on the bridge of her nose! She dansed about – whining – paws crossing over her poor nose – as it proceed to swell out of control. Now boxers don’t have a very long snout – she looked like she had been in a fight and lost!
She lived 16 years – and was quite an addition to the family. When she finally had to be put to sleep – our daughter came home from Michigan where she was in college – Ben had a prom to go to. He came home early and stayed up all nite in a disheleved tux to comfort his pal. My husband placed her with such tenderness in the back of the car – traveled 2 hrs to my parenys place in the country and buried her. The heart shaped wooden marker made by an old fellow neighber – with her name on it still is there – Along with memories that will never die – the bee story being just a chapter!
Wow, thanks for sharing such gorgeous yarn!
My most memorable bee story was only the second time I’ve ever been stung. Riding quads outside of Puerto Vallarta, we spent the day up in the surrounding hills on very dusty roads, we were about the color of this yarn when we came back. To save some time and be able to breathe a little bit, we took the highway back the last few miles, going about 50 mph on not much better roads, when something hit me just under my goggles on the bridge of my nose.
Yep – I got stung and started to swell immediately! I was giving hand signals to stop, not knowing much spanish to alert our guides as I yanked my goggles off. They looked at me and started to get a panicked look on their faces. Luckily, I travel with tylenol and benadryl in my pack, and took some before it got too out of control.
Great ride, and I have a new little spot blending in with my freckles where the bee got me.
ooh, the yarn is gorgeous!
hmm, i must be one of the few people who have never had an “encounter” with a bee but it’s a totally different story with wasps and mosquitoes!
i do have a memorable moment (for me) involving honey and this was the time that my (then 5 year old) niece asked if she could learn to bake a cake. when i asked her what kind of cake she wanted, i was told it had to be a honey cake because honey was one of her favourite things to eat. that was the first time that i ever “taught” someone how to cook and just thinking back and remembering how seriously she did the measuring of the ingredients and her amazed look when she saw the cake rising when it was baking in the oven makes me feel special considering that it was her “first” cooking experience and she had asked *me* to teach her how to bake.
The day before my wedding, my bare feet stepped on a bee in the front yard of my parent’s house. It didn’t take long for a little line of itchy bee stingy poison, all that was left of the poor bee, to swell my foot and my leg. After a lot of ice the swelling did start to go down a bit, but I had a pretty excruciating wedding day in my high heels and the longest receiving line in the history of the world.
I threw the high heels out and never wore them again, but I still eat honey.
i only have one bee story. i had been bee stung as a child just as much as anyone, i suppose. but after my 22nd birthday, i was stung for the first time in probably 10 years or so. i was stung on my toe. i figured it would be like any other bee sting i have ever gotten. but no, my entire foot swelled up… then my entire calf up to my knee was swollen…swollen so much my skin was so tight and felt like it could pop.. then part of my thigh was swollen. then i finally went to the doctor.
she told me that i was allergic to bees. which i thought was wierd, i never knew that you could become allergic later in your life. but it led me to find out that my dad, who has been deathly allergic to bees my entire life, wasnt actually allgeric until his early twenties too. she told me if i was ever stung again it would probably be much worse and i’d have to go to the ER.
but i havent been stung since… and that was 6 years ago!
that yarn is the prettiest color i have seen in a long time… i hope i win! π
When I was a small, eager-to-please Kindergartener my school had a Jog-a-Thon fundraiser. I hoofed it all around my neighborhood and sweetly manipulated all of my relatives into signing up to sponsor me. The more laps around the field I did, the more money I would earn for my school– The World’s Most Wonderful School with the Best Teachers Ever. Plus, there was a prize for the student who raised the most money and I Had To Win.
I just could not wait until the big day. The loads of money I was going to earn were already being counted in my head by the big, dollar sign insignia’d bagfuls. When the starting whistle blew I ran with all my might. I ran like the wind! I was She-Ra! I rocked harder than Jem AND the Holograms! I– got stung by a bee before I finished my first lap.
They had to carry me off the field because my ankle was swollen. Even worse was my poor, broken little heart. Everyone thought I was crying from the pain, but it was the thought of failure that really hurt.
In the end all my sponsors gave more money than I ever could have run for because my story was so sad. So, thank you bees! They helped me win the school-wide competition for most money earned!
My honeybee story took place when I three years old. I was playing in a patch of clovers and dandylions and was collecting flowers to make lil yellow and white bouquets when I picked a dandylion that had already been claimed by a bee. It stung me and I went crying to my mom. To soothe me, she sang to me the alphabet song since I was beginning to learn my letters, BUT she omitted the offending letter “B”. My sister came in and heard my mom’s altered version of the ABCs and said “Mom, you forgot the letter “B”.” I instantly started crying again as I remembered the sting. She felt awful, but in retrosepect the story makes me laugh.
_____
It looks like you have another cool project in the works. I hope that it turns out to be a fun knit. I’m looking forward to the blogs about it
My cousin and I were playing in a bedroom in my grandparent’s farmhouse when my mother rushed in, dragging my brother who was crying to beat the band. Turns out my brothers and more cousins were jumping from the hayloft onto some hay bales below. My brother landed on his rear end, right in a bee hive that was in the hay bale. My mother kicked us out of the bedroom so that she could have privacy to pull the stingers out of his back side!
A long time ago, in a sunny field far away, a little bee was happily floating around the flowers. He sniffed this flower and that one, hovered low to admire the beautiful colors of another, and then zoomed up high high high so he could look down and see the entire field at once. The view was dazzling – reds and blues and yellows, purple and green, all dancing together and filling his sphere of vision with beautiful riotous color.
“What a beautiful thing it is to be a bee,” he thought. “How perfect, to see Nature’s glory intimately and from far away. And how gratifying to know that its beauty comes in part from my work.” And he flew away, satisfied with his role in the world.
— and that is my bee story. π
When I was little, I got stung twice in the same day. That morning, I was fishing and laid my hand down on top of one. I remember feeling it squirm under my palm before it stung. Then, that afternoon I was walking along an old log and one got me in the lip. My parents’ friend, Jim, dabbed instant tea mix on it. He’s been dead for quite a few years now and that’s the clearest memory I have of him.
My DBF and I have always fantasized about our ultimate life and we decided long ago that as soon as we can we’re going to move to a farm where I can raise alpaca and sheep and he can raise bees. I love honey bees and I think the process of working with these miraculous creatures is wonderful. I always think of Terry Prachett who talks about bees being the hardest creature to understand because they work with a hive mind and are always in constant communication. I find it facinating! I guess I talk about it too much as well. My mom sent me an article from the Globe and Mail this week about illegal urban apiaries – I don’t really know if she was warning or encouraging me π
Honey Carrots Recipe–Place in pan: 1 lb sliced frozen carrots, 1 C water, 1/3 C honey, dash salt, couple shakes of pepper. Bring to boil, lower heat to simmer and cover. Cook until tender; drop 1/2 stick butter on top of carrots and replace cover on carrots. Turn off heat, let butter melt and give a quick stir before serving. Yummmy…did not eat carrots until DIL cooked these for me.
Lora
Hi! What a great collection of bee stories. Most of mine are fairly mundane by comparison, such as throwing rocks at a yellow jacket nest when I was a kid (but old enough to know better) and getting stung when one of the creatures chased after me and got stuck in my pseudo-mohair sweater.
However, here is some bee trivia (short on detail but true). In the book “On Food and Cooking” Harold McGee mentions a battle that was lost when much of one side’s soldiers fell ill from eating honey that turned out to be poisonous – because of what is was made from, not because of anything that was added to it. Weird, huh?
Over at Wikipedia they have additional information, including the fact that honey making in New Zealand is carefully monitored since there something similar can happen there,
Hello – I love bee images, but historically I haven’t been such a fan. I’ve been known to scream hysterically and run around flapping my arms when one is near. I try to play it cool now that I have a kid so I don’t pass that weirdness along. I’ve been stung numerous times (actually now that I think about it, I think they were yellow jackets), but the most memorable time was when I stepped on a bee that was feasting on a dead slug that happened to be sitting in a pile of dog doo.
Well…I don’t know how you’ll possibly choose a winner! My ‘bee story’ is to recommend that you get the audiobook of Sue Monk Kidd’s ‘The Secret Life of Bees’ to listen to as you knit the shawl. It is a wonderful book with endearing characters, and you will learn about bees and honey as you enjoy the story. Thanks for your consideration!
i don’t have a great bee story. but i am a big fan of honey!
i have wonderful memories of trips to an apple cider farm in the fall. i would beg my parents to buy a hunk of the real honeycomb they would sell there amongst all the other things from the farm. if i was lucky enough to get some it was destined for my favorite childhood treat – peanut butter and honey sandwiches. YUM!
my new favorite is honey gummy bears. my oh my. they are so addicting. i found them at artisansweets.com after buying them at a yarn and tea shop here in washington (i couldn’t afford to keep paying $3 for a little bag so i looked for bulk online!).
I splurged once on 50 lbs of 100% pure beeswax, and spent Lughnasadh that year making candles. The color, the scent…all of it came together and the topper on the cherry was seeing a big fat fuzzy bumblebee (wider than my thumbnail) resting on the windowsill near where the candles were cooling. It was a perfect summer moment – the late afternoon summer sunlight streaming in through the window, the feeling of well being and of a good harvest, and one of the millions if not billions of little guys who make that harvest and my candles possible chose my sill to rest before moving on. It was awesome. I’m nearly out of the candles I made – it’s probably time to make some more with that same batch of wax. I used a lot of them during the cold, dark, grey winter months here in the PNW, and lighting that wick and seeing that golden flame reminded me of that one moment in the sun that beautiful August afternoon.
After my Dad died my little Mother insisted on cutting the grass around the house. She lived in the country – Spangler, Pa. I was home for the weekend -and tho she insisted on starting the grass – I was to take over after 20 minutes, Off she went – this little 100# lobely British woman – cutting away. Next I knew I heard a terrifying screech and Mom buzzed by me batting the bees that were attacking. In the house she flew with me on her heels. Off came her blouse -finally her bra and after a quick count of 30 stings off to the bathtub with Aveeno – baking soda and vinegar paste and gel/paste. I was so glad she had kept the benadry I had give her for another itching moment. After 40 minutes of soaking and Caladryl application she slipped into an old soft t shirt that was my Dads – She then sat on the couch and assumed the position – yes – she knit every day. The tv was turned on and she continued knitting a baby sweater. She always had something on the needles. One project at a time – and always finished in jig time. She lasted about an hour – quietly placed her knitting down and took a benedry nap.
The neighbor heard the commotion – tookcare of the bees and I finished the grass. She spent an uncomfortable couple days – but in btween treatments she would sit and knit, Needles clicking away. Not agrass cutting sessin went by without aquick look for bee mounds. And we laughed many a time at how fast my little Mom could move- what a site – me trying to catch up to her!
In early spring of 1991, 8 months pregnant with my 2nd child, I went shopping in the neighborhood with my then 4-yr old daughter. The weather was cool, so I was wearing a thick knit cotton turtleneck with tight-fitting neck and cuffs, a fanny-pack strapped snugly below my belly held keys and cash. In the linens shop, as I leaned over to inspect the goods, I felt a sharp, burning pain in my left breast. Owww! Then all of a sudden there was fluttering INSIDE my sweater. I whipped off the fanny-pack and stretched and shook out the bottom of my sweater to get rid of this bringer of pain. A bee flew out and disappeared into the depths of the store. I still haven’t figured out how it got into my sweater, but after that I noticed how bees would leave their flowers and wasps would forget the sweets at corner trash cans to follow me as I passed by. Thankfully, that stopped after my daughter was born!
My first memory (just barely walking) is seeing a bumblebee on a zinnia in my mother’s garden. I wanted to catch this thing and make it a pet. I caught it in my pudgy hands, and yes, I got stung.
My favorite thing about honey is that, just before and then during allergy season, if you eat honey that is produced near your home, your allergy symptoms will be greatly reduced. It works!
My dad (the lucky man) lives in Hawaii and he kept hearing buzzing coming from his bedroom wall. We teased him that he was hearing things, until he noticed a few bees crawling around and disappearing through a tiny crack in the wall. Exterminators came out and removed part of the dry wall to find out that there was a huge bee colony setting up house inside Dad’s bedroom wall. The photos are actually pretty scary looking. It was a big job to remove them all.
Remember the wide bermuda shorts of some years back? I hardly have to tell you the bee flew up my shorts, stung my thigh, and the swelling commenced. And continued. And hurt, hurt, hurt. I called my friend who is a nurse, and she told me to make a paste of baking soda and water, and to wrap my leg with plastic wrap to keep the paste in place. Cute, no? That was a lot of plastic wrap. As they say on SpongeBob: “Three days later…” the pain and swelling and pain subsided. (I prefer inanimate bees like the ones printed on the “Napoleonic Bee” wallpaper my neighbors have, though bugs on the walls just seems wrong.)
Mmmm….honey. Love it, but have spent the past week fetching it for a needy actor with a sore throat! He drinks gallons of the stuff! Bees and I have a strict, don’t bother me I won’t bother you policy, but my brother-in-law once ran his car off the road into a ditch because a bee flew in the window! He was on his way for a short vaction, but the car repairs took all his money, so he just went home. The bee got away scot free!
I’m allergic and will run whenever I see or hear a bee, which is probably the only time I actually run.
I left my cousins buckled into car seats and ran out of the car until someone came and removed the bee from my car.
What beautiful yarn! Your shawl will be super-gorgeous, just like all the rest of your knits! =)
Here is my traumatic bee story. I work in a research lab, and every Tuesday morning we have a big group meeting where we take turns bringing in breakfast. Anyway, one morning someone brought in Munchkins from Dunkin Donuts, and I grabbed a glazed one, and what do I see but a BEE stuck to the Munchkin! The poor thing had been GLAZED on! What a horrible way to die! It was the most disgusting thing ever, I actually have photos somewhere, it was a long time before I could eat anything from Dunkin Donuts again!
When I was 8 our family flew down to Texas to spend Christmas with my paternal grandmother. She raised bees – and in Texas this means Catus Flower Honey – which my Dad loved. To go home my family was flying out of the San Antonio airport and my parents realized if we all ran fast to the gate we could just make it onto an earlier flight. My mother had a one gallon pail of honey in each hand (this was in the day of much more lenient airline carry-on rules). These pails were like paint pails with a wire handle. Do you know how heavy one gallon of honey is?? We made the flight but we still talk about my Mom trying to run through the airport with those pails of heavy honey.
Growing up, my parents kept honey bees (actually, they still do). At one point, whenever the city had an issue with an errant hive of bees, they would give my parents a call to come and collect them. For one call, I remember going along with my dad and helping him collect a huge hive of bees from inside the walls of an historic house. We had to wait until dusk and then my dad “smoked” the hive to calm them, then managed to collect the queen and bring the hive back to add to the other hives we already had.
When I was young and single I took a cross country trip in a van from New York to Colorado via Texas. The heat, the immense size of the state and some of the red-neck mentality of the residents made me what to exit the west side of Texas as quickly as possible. While a passenger with my arm hanging out the window a bee flew into my yarn at 70MPH. This required a stopover in Ft.Worth, ice packs and not so fond memories.
The yarn is so gorgeous!!
My bee story happened while we lived in Japan. One winter we visited a farmer and way up in the top of one of the tress was a beautiful bee’s nest. It looked like orange and brown marble! While we were having tea the farmer had someone go and bring the nest down. We took it home and our son put the hive in his bedroom..well, don’t have to tell you all that when the hive got warm the bees woke up and out they came! Fortunately no one was stung, think the bees were too groggy, we put the hive outside and everyone lived happily ever after!
Annette in Florida
This is the third traumatic event I recall from my childhood. The first was an injury, the second was a poisoning. The third was my realization that I was all alone in the world.
When I was five, I lived in Appleton, Wisconsin. We lived down the street from an elementary school and across the street, behind the houses, there were bean fields. We children stole and ate pounds and pounds of that poor farmer’s beans. In the evenings, we played kick the can all up and down the street. It was 1965; it was idyllic.
One day that summer, I recall I was coming home from playing at the elementary school’s playground. Strangely, I was alone, with neither my little sister nor any of the other swarm of neighborhood children around me. I set off, barefooted, across the clover-rich field of grass (what has happened to the kind of lawns embellished with tiny white flowers and clovers all through? I miss those lawns of my childhood). The next year we moved to South Carolina, and my sisters and I were never allowed to go barefoot there for fear of hookworms, but despite my crazy love for my round-toed red Keds sneakers, I went barefoot almost all the time.
As I was walking across the lawn, all barefooted and vulnerable, I became aware that the lawn was alive with bees. It seemed every tiny round head of white clover was topped with an assiduously oblivious, fat, yellow bee gathering clovery-rich orange dusty pollen and drinking deep of clover-scented nectar.
I stopped and stood. Though I’d never yet been stung, I was well aware that if I stepped on one of the bees I was likely to be. As I stood there, I realized that I was completely alone–there was no one to help me. I stood and waited for someone to come by on the sidewalk, to come out of one of the houses, to walk past or ride a bike, to come anywhere near hailing distance–but the neighborhood, ordinarily humming with activity and kids and laundry-hanging mothers and lawn-mowing dads, was deserted except for me and the bees. I probably cried.
After two or three hours or days, I decided I was going to have to save myself, and I screwed my courage to the sticking place and I flew across the remaining sward, leaping on just the balls of my feet and pushing off with every muscle. To my astonishment, I reached the farther side without a sting.
I was in my teens before I suffered my first bee-sting, and I’ve had only one or two since, though I was once swarmed by a nest of hornets when I accidentally disturbed the nest they’d built under my driveway. I’d tell that story, too, but you only asked about bees.
I have a friendly feeling toward bees to this day, in gratitude for their having not stung me. It saddens me to hear that US bee populations are declining, as a consequence both of mites and over use of pesticides. Without bees, of course, no pollination, so no fruit, no veggies, no feed for animals, and no food for people.
I might set out one day this week and see if there is a lawn mix that comes with wee clover seeds in it. Fall is a good time to redo the lawn, and it’s almost here!
“Isn’t it funny how a bee likes hunny?
Buzz, buzz, buzz. I wonder why he does?”
Frog Princess
My parents went back to college when I was very little. My dad worked part-time as a beekeeper assistant. I remember being about 4 years old and sitting in the car (far too scared to go outside where the BEES were) and watching my dad in his big beekeeper suit, completely covered in bees. I watched him take out huge sheets of honeycombs, also covered in bees. Being so young, it was the most terrifying and thrilling thing I had ever seen. When he was all done, he went inside the building and came out looking like my regular dad, just an ordinary guy. He had a piece of honeycomb, which he gave to me and I remember sucking the fresh honey out of it. I’m still very scared of bees but I do love honey.
A poem of mine about a bee experience: Honey// In a canyon I know down south / forty feet up a sheer sandstone face, /beneath a ledge no wider / than my two hands held open before me, / a white mass shone /from a narrow seam in the rock. / I squinted up, trying to figure / how force of flood or wind / could wedge styrofoam so high. / Deceived by preconception, / I nearly missed the glint of insect motion / hovering and circling about it. / With binoculars to draw me closer, / all became clear: the waxy sheen, / the glistening ooze, wild honeybees / producing sweetness in an / unexpected location. /// (c) 2006 Diane Fouts
Ooh, I love honey, and that yarn is gorgeous. I actually do have a bee story, as well: When I was a junior in high school, I was chosen to be part of the “honor guard” at the seniors’ graduation. I was excited because my cousin was graduating that year, I’d get to wear a beautiful dress, I’d be wearing elegant long gloves — I was vainly looking forward to looking spiffy. The weekend before graduation and the end of the school year, I (like a good daughter) went and washed my parents’ cars, taking it as an opportunity to improve my tan, enjoying the feel of the cool water on my bare feet. There were a few bees outside that day, attracted to the flowers blooming in front of the house. They weren’t bothering me, I didn’t bother them, everything was fine. I finished washing the cars, dried them off, and headed back inside — and stepped right onto a dead bee lying on the walkway. Over the next few days, my foot swelled to overflow my sandals, and required me to spend the last week of school hobbling around with a crutch. Needless to say, I did not get to be part of the honor guard, and instead I spent the day at home with an ice pack on my elephant-sized foot. That’s how I learned that I am allergic to bees, and that even dead bees can be dangerous. Watch your step.
My bee story:
My dad was mowing the lawn at my grandmother’s place and accidentally ran into a bee’s nest! By the time he realized it, they had already swarmed on him and he started running down the hill to get away from them.
My grandmother lives on top of a big sloping hill. the driveway extends all the way to the bottom and my dad had parked at the very bottom. So He was running down the hill, slapping bees, yelling, and finally got into his car where the bees were all beating upon the windshield and windows trying to get in.
My dad slapped at the bees still on him and they were even in his pants! Thank goodness he wasn’t allergic, but it was a rather harrowing experience!
A second bee story:
my brother as a kid used to take bumblebees and shake them up in the cup of his palm! He never got stung but it was always a “what are you doing!?” moment.
I don’t really have any awesome bee stories, although I love bees. For some reason, the stripes, the bright colors, the hilarious happiness/cuteness linked to bees… I love it. I have bee crocs sandals (black on the bottom, yellow inside.) There’s something about the manicness of bees (delirious, happy cuteness buzzing from flower to flower, or the hysterical warcry of “BEES!”) As soon as I saw that pattern I knew I’d have to make it eventually, but now that there is this awesome yarn, it’s killing me.
Okay, here’s an actual bee story, although it’s not about me (I don’t really like honey and I’ve never been stung, so…) In high school, during PE, a bee landed on one of the PE teachers. The TA told him that if he didn’t move the bee wouldn’t sting him, but it did anyway…to the amusement of every opressed PE student present.
(I used third person for affect)
Once upon a time, a girl with long brown hair was walking through the park. She had on her very favorite ballerina shoes, which had long ribbons that always refused to stay up on her calves.
She walked looking down, because she was amazed at the sheer number of bees that were pollinating the flowers.
One of these bees decided that it liked her ballerina shoes, and climbed into them. Because the girl was walking, she accidentally stepped on the bee, and it stung her.
She cursed the bee, and tried to keep walking, because her house was only a short distance away. The sting hurt so much, that try as she might, it was very painful to walk. She cried out in pain.
Her prince heard that cry, and ran over to carry her the rest of the way to her house.
THE END
(Obviously he wasnβt a prince, just my boyfriend!)
When I was little I was always careful walking on our grass because there would be bees in the clover. One day we were going to swim and my dad was skimming the junk off the top of the pool, which included a bunch of dead bugs. I poked a bee that wasn’t QUITE dead yet, and it stung me. I ran toward the house to go to mommy and stepped on another one in the grass. :p My first bee stings!
I love Anne’s stuff – she can do no wrong!
I avoid bees at all times – they are the one insect that can really get me moving. Then again I’m highly allergic to be stings and luckily I have not been stung in the last 20 years. But boy can I run fast π
That is going to come out gorgeous!
I love Anne’s stuff – she can do no wrong!
I avoid bees at all times – they are the one insect that can really get me moving. Then again I’m highly allergic to be stings and luckily I have not been stung in the last 20 years. But boy can I run fast π
That is going to come out gorgeous!
One day my niece was stung by some ground bees living under our dying, ancient, original macintosh apple tree. Leave it to Uncle Jim to solve the problem- they waited until dark when all the bees had flown into their hole, poured some gasoline down it, and burned all the bees!
The worst bee experience our family has had is when my eldest, Josh (at the time about 10) and his buddy,Matt. were out in the woods behind our house. We live in a valley and some one about 20 years earlier had pushed an old car off the mountain. They had to go explore it. They peeked in the car and tried the doors and then one of them disturbed bees that had set up house in that old car. I heard their blood curdling screaming – from inside the house. I ran outside to see they were covered with bees. I started ripping their clothes off and Matt ran to his house. Josh had been stung at least 40 times. Matt had a windbreaker on and managed to just be stung about 5 times. I threw Josh in the van and we drove to the doctor’s office. I feared he would have a reaction just because of the volume of stings. Josh started screaming on the way downtown ” I CAN STILL HEAR THEM_ I CAN STILL HEAR THEM!!!” I thought OMG the kid has gone crazy from this experience -Doctor Aldous wiped him in and gave him a shot of anti histaine and Josh was crying and screaming still ” I CAN HEAR THEM” Doctor Aldous ran his big doctor hands through Josh shaggy hair and found what was freaking Josh out, bees trapped in his hair – and he got stung twice for his effort.
Josh is 6 foot 6 man now – not afraid of bees but he keeps his hair short LOL. Just as an aside – yasterday – a bee managed to fly into his full faced motorcycle helmet and sting him on the temple. Bees love him.(women too because he is so sweet)
Thanks for having this contest.I would love to be able to try that. Wool is not in my budget these days. I love knitting though. My hand was crushed in 2003. I cannot even hold a pen well but happily knitting is one of the things I can still do – although I have to keep tension between my fingers with them almost straight our because they do not bend much – it works!!!:)I also learned to knit continental but I cannot master purling,(I do not know why…:( ) so if i am doing a pattern it is faster to do it my funny english way
Peace and blessings
Marla
I don’t have any bee stories to share btu I can share a recipe. Very tasty one indeed.
Honey Quick Bread
2 1/2 c. all purpose flour
1t. baking soda
1/2t. salt
1t. baking powder
1/4t. cinnamon
1/2 c. oil
1-1/2c. milk
1/2c. honey
Mix all ingredients together; spoon into a greased and floured loaf pan. Let stand for 20 minutes; then bake at 375* for 50 to 60 minutes. Makes one loaf.
Bees have ears (on their legs?)
Well, my friends Tim and Ingrid were at an outdoor cafe in New York (we are all from New Zealand) and he started frantically trying to shoo away a bee, she told him not to be silly, as they don’t actually sting you unless you do something to you. About 10 seconds later a bee landed in the middle of her nose, and, well, they do just sting for no reason. At the time she had an unfortunate haircut that made her look like Princess Diana, so it was puffiness all round – hair and nose…
This is not much of a story, but it’s how I got my first bee sting. I was in kindergarten at the most, and when we took my older sister to her soccer practice, I was walking on a hill by the field. I was looking at the clover, and I saw a bumblebee. I’d seen pictures of bees, but never of any fuzzy ones, so I grabbed it to figure out what it was, and it stung me. I cried a great deal more than seems reasonable now, and when we got home, my mother had me run it under water.
That’s all I’ve got. My friend has an apiary now, so I get incredibly awesome honey, but I’m not much of a cook, so I mainly eat it plain or on toast. No recipes there.
Bee stories? I didn’t get stung for the first time until I was about 12. I was in ballet class (leotard, tights, ballet skirt, on a particularly hot a muggy Washington D.C. afternoon, when I felt something on my collarbone.
Thinking my (really sloppy) bun was coming undone, which was a terrible travesty according to my strict Russian ballet master, I reached up to quick tuck my hair back before she noticed.
It turned out to be two bees…one stung my collarbone, and the other stung my scalp. Ouch!!!
That is beautiful beautiful yarn. You really do have a gift for pairing a yarn with a pattern for a perfect match.
I’ve never been one to be scared of bees. You’d think that stepping on one when I was a little girl–the one and only time I’ve been stung–would have changed that, but it didn’t. I can remember running into the house screaming and crying and being surprised at how such a small insect could cause so much pain.
But that isn’t my story. (Thank goodness huh?)
One of my co-workers was a small time apiarist on the side. I’d talk to him now and again about bees, local honey (good for hayfever since it’s made from local pollen), Africanized bees, etc.. One day he said he’d be harvesting honey on the weekend so I volunteered to help.
His home was in a residential neighborhood and he had a few hives there. Although I’m not normally scared of bees, it was a bit unnerving to have more than usual buzzing around. That with the fact that we were taking their honey away–well I wasn’t sure if they were going to be happy about that. “Don’t we need to wear suits or have smokers or something?” I asked. I was assured that we’d be okay. Don’t freak out around the bees and they’ll be fine. They might be curious, but they won’t be mad.
So learned how to take a heated “knife” and cut off the wax caps that covered the honey in the cells of the honeycomb. Do that on both sides, then put the frame in the centrifuge. Spin a bit, then turn the frames around and spin some more. Each cell in a honeycomb has a wall in the center so you spin the honey out of one side, then the other so as not to damage the cell.
We poured the honey through some special cloth-like filters (small enough to catch a bee’s toe I was told) and then the liquid gold was put into clean honey bears and sanitized jars.
It was all very low tech and wonderful. The honey is pure and simple and basically all the processing it needs is to be filtered–if you can call that processing.
I went home with a jar and a honey bear. My assistance earned me the right to get free refills for life. He also told me that no one who has helped in the past has ever been back for another honey harvest. I thought for sure I’d be the exception.
It turns out that I got one refill and never did go back for another honey harvest. I left the company and he moved out of the area. But that experience gave me a better appreciation for a truly perfect food.
Hi Cara! I’m delurking to share a bee story with you because I am most terrified of bees and live in a very rural area where the bees live in the ground in my yard and in trees all over the place. One day soon I know that they will get me and I will seriously have a heart attack and die from fear!
To begin I will tell you that my husband is a retired farmer and has told me about running over nests while cutting fields on his tractor and having to abandon said tractor and watch it just idle on without him as the bees attack it. He has also been a wealth of information on how to get away from bees if attacked, such as run through pine trees or jump headfirst into water. Both of these sound like impossible situations to me as the only thing I know will happen if I am attacked is a dead faint!
As it happens, my husband decided if we raised honeybees, and I helped him to work in them, that I would see the error of my fears and would immediately give in to the joys of the winged. We ordered all of the proper beekeeping paraphernalia and made a special trip to take classes on this endeavor and airfreighted our 3 colonies of honeybees to VA from Alabama overnight. 500 bees and 1 queen per hive. The next day the post office called and told us to please come and pick up the bees, that they would be sitting on the back dock outside. We took the pickup and got them and brought them to their newly built homes and my husband proceeded to put on his suit and veil and told me to get mine on and help him get the queens and bees into the hives. I told him I would let him do that for now and I would help with the next thing that had to be done. He hung the queens and bees swarmed around him as I sat in the hot truck with the windows rolled up tightly. A few days later he said to me that we needed to go to the hives and take jars of sugar water for them, I again was too busy at the moment to help. Finally the day came to harvest some honey. The husband was going to rob and would bring it to the house and we would cut it from the supers and drain the honey from the comb. That was fine as we would be quite a ways from the bees, but guess what? They follow the scent of the honey and as we were mashing all that we could get from the comb they were swarming all around us and getting into the bucket. Well needless to say, I gave them back their honey!
I have been following your blog for over a year and it is very good to finally break the silence. Can’t wait to find out the big news!!!
Have a great weekend.
Fragrant honey is even more delicious drizzled over ricotta and figs on a crusty piece of toast.
Honey and soy (and a dab of chilli if you are so inclined) make an amazingly tasty marinade for chicken or pork, or to dress steamed vegies.
I was playing tag with my brother when we were little, I jumped through my mother’s garden to escape my brother who was trying to tag me. Well I must have disturbed a bee on a flower because the next thing I knew I had a bee up my shorts. Let’s just say that I never took a short cut through my mother’s garden again.
last week i was walking with my golden retriever puppy , and daughter( who was almost named honey the puppy not the daughter) past some bee boxes at our camp . it was sunset and the hives were busy . i felt some buzzing around my head and began waving my arms and whooping in panic , thusly scaring child ,dog and bees. i got stung twice, just below my right index finger on the palm side and also on the pinkie of the same hand. i burst into tears immediately. my girl is consoling me as she guides me and our pooch home. i wanted to be a brave mother and instead though tears and snot wailed ” i won’t be able to knit” patting my back and telling me everything will be alright she said “you will figure something out”she was right, and i was glad it was me that got stung and not her. ( even though she does not care about knitting so much )
Here’s a funny story: My husband, dog, and I were hiking in the woods one afternoon. The dog and I were standing at the top of a very small hill. I was facing downhill, and my dog was behind me. Several bees got stuck in her fur and stung her. She panicked and ran away, hitting me square in the backs of my knees. I fell backwards onto her, and we slid down the hill in that position. My husband laughed his ass off, especially since it took us several seconds to untangle ourselves and stand up again. I had no idea what hit me until I found myself laying on my dog at the bottom of the hill….
Bee story? My children and I used to pet the big fuzzy flower bees.
The first time I saw Allison pet one, I freaked. she looked at me like I was nuts. Isn’t this soft thing, of such beauty petable?
We never got stung. Just a soft pet …..man are they soft. Try it.
Hi, Here is my bee story:
I am terrified of bees, well getting stung so when I go out to the herb garden I always wear long sleeves and pants.
This past weekend I did not realize that a bee got trapped in the herb basket so when I came it the house and put the herbs under the tap to wash the bee came out.
I ran out of the kitchen like a ‘bat out of hades’ while my husband tried to capture it. No such luck that doggone bee seem to chase me for a half an hour which felt like 2.
My husband finally caught it.
I was married this weekend, at a beautiful country inn in the Berkshires (in western Massachusetts). My husband’s 5-year-old niece was one of our flower girls, and she spent the weekend charming everyone. Saturday night, during the reception, she was walking barefoot through the grass and was stung on the bottom of her foot. This morning, the sting was still all swelled up and hurting her, and my good friend (who’s going to school for pediatrics) took charge. An ice pack, and later a massage to make the swelling go down, and my niece was smiling and walking around. Seeing my friend and my niece sitting together on the grass was just such an awesome moment.
Bees scare the living crap out of me! Sure, they’re pretty, with their little bumbling look in cartoons and the like, and they create that lovely honey stuff, but I’m just plain scared of them. It goes back to when I was about 7 years old at Alton Towers (a theme park in Staffordshire, UK) and I saw my younger cousin, having just been stung by a bee, he was distraught – no more than distraught he was devastated, I’ve never seen anyone cry so much in my life. To me the pain must have been the most agonizing thing to ever experience, my fear developed immediately. Strangely enough, a few years ago I asked my cousin about that day and the bee sting – he didn’t remember a thing, just that he really loved the rides at the park, yet it remains a powerfully vivid memory for me!
It’s not an exciting bee story, but when I was a kid, we lived in townhouses that backed up to a huge common area where we could play. Of course, being kids, we did not play in the nice grassy area, but instead in the huge weedy field behind it. I was playing at a friend’s that day, and we were running through the weeds, when a bee got lodged under the edge of my shorts, and stung me! First sting ever, and I was freaked out, and my mom’s friend was really mean about me being a baby and crying about “just a little bee sting”.
Oh, I’m bringing home a baby bumble bee
Won’t my mommy be so proud of me
‘Cause I’m bringing home a baby bumble beeeee….
Does that count?
π
Ok, here goes:
When I was nineteen or twenty, I had a friend named Ruth. She staying with my parents for the summer and was real straight laced. I thought she was great, though, I really did.
One day we went out for a picnic. I asked her if she liked honey, real fresh honey. Of course she said yes! I lead her out to a field where I knew a whole ton of bees had their hive. I sneaked up to the tree, pulled out a honeycomb and slowly made my way back to her.
Well you can’t even imagine how upset she got. Saying I could have died! But the truth is, she loved it. And she loved the honey.
…Actually, that was what happened in Fried Green Tomatoes. I’m terrified of bees and I stay as far away from them as possible. The end!
I never had much of a relationship with bees or honey (except for an inordinate love of the latter on oven-baked buttered toast) until I acquired a colleague who keeps bees. She even got a big-time book published last year with Random House — A Keeper of Bees — in which she reflects on beekeeping in relation to her own mid-life crisis. Thanks to her, I pay a lot more attention to bees and pollination issues than I used to — though I still swap at the buggers when they get too close to my little girl (I know they can’t help it — she’s so sweet!).
I have a yucky bee sting forever traumatized story. It was 1967, I was 10 years old. A girlfriend and I were amusing ourselves by walking around the neighborhood park field with our eyes closed and our arms out-stretched forward in zombie-like sleepwalking style. There were these funny new holes in the field in the grass and the trick was not to fall down while continuing stepping in and out of the holes. Who knows what goes on in the minds of 10 year olds looking for some lazy summer day entertainment. Any who, after doing this for a few minutes, and mind you I had a mini baby-doll styled dress on (remember this was 1967 I was tres’ chic) all of a sudden swarms of wasps starting flying up from these holes in the ground. Unbeknown to us there were actually underground bee hives and we were disrupting them to the point of mass attack. They were flying up my dress, one stung me, I ran all the way home and when i got inside, another one, that was hiding under my dress on my thigh also stung me. IT COMPLETELY FREAKED ME (and my Mom) OUT! Me no likey bee’s, but the yarn is gorgeous and the pattern looks lovely.
I just got back from a big family camping trip a few hours ago. 55 friends and family camped together for 5 days on Priest Lake in north Idaho. One of our family members was eating a sandwich a couple days ago. He was down to his last bite. He popped it into his mouth without looking at it. There was a bee on it. It stung his tongue 3 times. He is not a ‘happy camper’, but he’s going to be okay.
I took a brand new tube of Benadryl cream on the trip “just in case”. It takes the sting out almost instantly. I came home with half a tube. Almost everyone got stung at least once. Fortunately, I didn’t.
This is the first time I’ve entered a blog contest. I sure hope I win. π
http://beadknitter.blogspot.com
That’s such a beautiful yarn. And the pattern is gorgeous too. But wow, that Laci yarn is expensive. And the kit’s not cheap either. So I guess I’ll enter this contest just in case…
I don’t really have a bee story, unless you count the one time I ran barefoot across a grassy park and stepped on a bee’s stinger. Still I think bees are pretty cool creatures. After all, honey is next to godliness. π My favorite way of eating honey is poured over a corn tortilla. I don’t know if anyone’s suggested that yet but it’s a nice, simple way to eat honey and the two tastes go together so well!
I’d also like to say that you’ve inspired me with your Monkeys to try them again, with the picots!! and I’m in love! I’m using Cherry Tree Hill sock yarn in all my favorite colors and it’s soooo awesome and thank you for pointing the way to that for me. π
I have a happy bee story, and a wonderful memory to share.
My daughter is homeschooled and we started this past year with a unit on bees. Excited to share what she’d learned, my daughter volunteered us to lead a Brownie Girl Scout meeting about bees. So, on an unseasonably warm October afternoon 8 little girls met at our house. We disected honeycomb, ate some raw, and then melted it down to get the beeswax. We baked honey cake and ate that too. Then, full of honey and with LOTS of energy to burn we went out to the big field beside our house. I taught the girls a little bit about how bees dance to tell each other where to find good flowers. Before I knew it the girls were taking turns being scout bees – one would ‘fly’ off, ‘discover’ some tasty flowers, ‘fly’ back, and then ‘dance’ for her hive mates. Then all the ‘bees’ would fly off to the flowers. The girls ran and ran, collecting pollen for their hive in the October sunshine. A beautiful afternoon and a beautiful memory.
And hopefully it’ll mean a chance for me to knit a beautiful shawl too! Thanks for offering the kit, and for your blog.
Hi Cara.
My bee story is a bittersweet one. My older sister and I were very, very close — she was 9 years older than I, so having her around when I was growing up was like having a second mother. She died suddenly two years ago.
Her name was Melissa, which is the Greek word for honeybee. Everytime I see a bee or hear one buzzing around the rosebushes or even add a teaspoon of honey to my tea in the morning, I think of her. The shawl, and especially in this gorgeous new colorway, would be a beautiful way to keep a remembrance of her near me.
Amy
I have never been stung by a bee. I have also never had a cavity. I am equally terrified of both.
Hi Cara!
Love your blog, and I’ve loved reading everyone’s bee stories! Here’s mine:
My daughter and her first cousin [my niece, Cami] are nearly twins. When they were about 18 months old, their dads took them to a botanical gardens, and my niece was stung by a bee. Naturally, it was pretty traumatic for my toddler niece, and it made a huge impression on my daughter. When she got home, she told me her first story: “Cami. Bee. Sting. Cry. Ice. Kiss. Better.” We heard that story for days, and we still talk about the time Cami was stung by the bee.
I am loving that Red Clover Honey colorway… just yummilicious! Can’t wait to see your shawl π My favorite bee story is really a yummy memory. My grandfather was a beekeeper. He had a huge beautiful rose garden and equally huge vege garden. At the bottom of the gardens were this magical area–grandpa’s bee hives! As a little girl playing in the pea patch, I remember making sure to stay waaay over there while he got all dressed up in his bee garb: the netting, gloves and the smoker. Magically (to me) he would come away with buckets of this golden dripping, sweet smelling honeycomb. I loved to chew on it like gum. One of my proudest show and tell days at school was when he gave me a honeycomb big enough to share with my classmates. Smelling sweet honey to this day transports me to the gardens and my grandfather. :0)
When I was a child my family moved to a house where there was no lawn yet. One thing we did in order to stop erosion and improve the soil while the grass established itself was sow the yard with clover, which of course meant lots of bees. I don’t think a week went by without a sting for some one, but it never did make us put on our shoes.
Hi Cara…it’s not a ‘favourite’ bee story, but it’s the only one I have: a couple of months ago I was cycling home from work. Traffic was bumper to bumper so I was flying along the cycleway on the left. Suddenly I felt a hot sharp pain in my left leg. Still going really fast, I looked down and this yellow striped rock/bullet/thing was embedded in my knee. I tried to swipe it away with my left hand, and instinctively braked really suddenly with my right.
Unfortunately the brake was for my front wheel, so I went flying over the handlebars onto the road. Thankfully the cars were going so slowly we all would have had time to stop for coffee and I still wouldn’t have had gotten hit by a car. A girl cycling behind me stopped to see if I was okay and she asked “what happened?” I stuttered “A bee bit me!” She looked doubtful and said “uh…there’s a pothole back there, maybe you hit it too quickly”…
I got back on my bike and rode home, worrying the whole way that I might not make because maybe I was mortally allergic to bees. But I’m not…Up until that day I was terrified of bees because I didn’t know what would happen to me if I got stung. These days I’m just terrified of my cycling ability (or lack thereof).
The next day I had to report it to our office Occupational Health advisor, because it occurred on my way home from work. My manager had to “outline ways to prevent this incident from happening again”. I was so embarrassed, while my colleagues laughed about beekeeper outfits and Cathy Freeman bodysuits.
Anna, in Melbourne (who loves your photos)
My bee story… The summer I was 10, on July 4th, I was following my big brother around whining while he shot squirrels with his bb gun. He nailed one, which I felt terrible about, so I nagged and nagged until he agreed we could give it a proper burial. We put it in a shoebox and took it into the woods behind our yard to bury it. My bro was just humoring me, and as soon as it started to rain he took off. He must have agitated a bee’s nest on his way back to the house, because as soon as I finished my make-shift funeral and began trotting home, I was under attack – I sustained close to 30 stings before my parents figured out why I was screaming and got my bee-infested clothes off me. Then they gave me two benadryl, and I proceeded to sleep through a fireworks show. And then, I was terrifed of stinging bugs for the subsequent 15 years, until I was finally stung again, and realized it wasn’t *that* bad, if there was only one.
My bee story is how sad I am as the bees disappear. As a child I can remember always dodging bees at every family picnic. I was always afraid of being stung so every outdoor family gathering was marked by me constantly changing where I sat to get away from bees. I got to know even the more distant cousins this way. Somewhere along the way the bees stopping showing up at picnics and family gatherings. Now when I very rarely see a bee, a real honeybee, it brings such a smile thinking back to those family events.
I was amused just yesterday with a bee story from my husband and son. They went on a much anticipated bike ride to the park. (My son just got his training wheels off.) When they got back, my son told me that he saved Daddy life! Daddy had a baby bee in his hair. I said “Did you swat it away?” My son said “No, I told him about it.”
Wow, what a life saver. Actually, although he has a healthy fear of the “stinger”, R loves bees, butterflies, and any other kind of insect. Our new butterfly garden is good for all of those critters.
For some reason, bees and wasps and flies just love flying into our conservatory, and they like it so much they avoid all the open windows and doors and continue to bash their heads adoringly on the one remaining closed pane. I once went in to find a huuuuuge bee (I’m guessing it might have been a queen) exhausted, barely twitching and panting on the floor. She was lovely and furry (such cute knees), but had no more energy to fly. I got a jar of jam out of the fridge and spooned out that liquidy bit you get on the top and put the teaspoon on the floor in front of her in the hope that she would drink it. She went very still and then suddenly surged forward, stuck out her proboscis and sucked it all up in about 2 seconds. After another minute of rest she took off, landed briefly on my shoe, then glided her elegant way straight out of the open door. Wasps I would not even give chutney to π
Bees are wonderful creatures… and their honey is definitely the nectar of the gods. That yarn is YUMMY!
I love bees… the hive mentality, the different roles, the honey, pollination, the hive structure, etc., but the most amazing thing I have ever seen was a hedge that was outside our local art museum. As my husband and I walked closer to the bushes, you could hear the buzzing and humming of thousands of honey bees. The hedge was covered in these tiny white, nearly invisible, but very fragrant flowers and the honey bees couldn’t get enough of it. It was alive with these beautiful bees tending to the flowers and gathering pollen for their honey. My husband and I stood there staring at this amazing work of art. It just goes to show that not all art is created by humans π
Today is my 30th anniversary(on the 30th), my husband is sick so we are stuck here at home.
I was surfin’ & saw your contest,here goes!
I was 8 & we were out picking apples when I stepped into a yellow jacket nest. I was stung from bottom to top, so Mother, being very thin and frail, set me up on Gay-our largest Saneen milk goat- and told her to take me home!First( & only) ride on a goat and I have no memory of anything but pain! She ran me straight to the farmhouse as my mother and brothers ran behind her. I had 22 stings but guess what? Back then you did not go to the hospital for every little thing. We were way out in the country, it was 50 years ago so Mother put me in the tub with soda water, then made a paste and put on each bite. I am not sure why, but ever since then bees seem to bee attracted to me. I no longer swell or have any reaction to a bee sting!
I would love to win the yarn and pattern,( a great anniversary present!) I realize my story is not really funny unless you are capable of seeing in your mind a long legged 8 year old clinging for dear life to a large white goat as it raced through the pasture!I am surprised none of us ever tried to go goat riding again!
okay here’s my “aaawwwww-cute” bee story!
i often take my two girls to a hands on science museum in our little new england town. one of the favorite exhibits of my older daughter (rory) is a bee hive that has a little tube connected to the outside so the worker bees can go out and do their thing and return. rory will spend inordinate amounts of time watching the little guys go in and out and doing their work in the honeycomb.
inevitably, the bee numbers dwindle in the winter, and often, if we are having the typical cold snap in winter, they disappear altogether for a couple of weeks in late jan/early feb. this happened one winter when my rory was about three. a few months later, my parents were visiting and we went to the museum with them and once rory saw that the bees were back she ran to my mom yelling “grandma! grandma! the bees are back!” she dragged my mom over to the bees and proceeded to show them to her for about the next 10-15 minutes. the look of joy on my mom’s face was PRICELESS. i think it was a grandparent moment that she will never forget.
I have a few bee stories… my grandfather kept bee hives and I have distinct memories from when I was 4 or 5 of him getting suited up in the hood and the white suit and going out with the smoker to check on the hives. Then, 20 years later, I visited Mongolia and met a bee scientist who was trying to reintroduce a native bee species back into the plains (I’m not sure quite why it had been wiped out). He gave me some Mongolian wildflower honey to take home. I was petrified that the US Customs people would take it from me, but I declared it (good girl!) and they said it was fine. Then I shared it with some of my (greedy) friends and they didn’t really savor it the way I thought they should, so I had to take it back and put it away and bring out the storebought stuff. Good times π
Cara – this is the first time I have ever posted to someone’s blog. Your photos and descriptions of the Bee Fields Shawl were just too irresitible. I love to knit, I love lace, I love shawls and I love bees. And I couldn’t agree with you more – that yarn is so very gorgeous. My husband gave me a beehive, colony and all the works for my birthday several years ago when we lived on a farm. They were so much fun and so fascinating! Our hive was in the middle of a 210 acre farm of clover, so needless to say our hive produced quarts and quarts of honey. We studiously read everything we could find about bees and harvesting the honey – but let me tell you, without professional harvesting equipment, getting honey from those combs into the jars is no picnic. Several hilarious,exhausting and messy attempts over a few seasons and my genius husband finally came up with an effective method. We felt like we were the first man and woman on earth, inventing these techniques for the first time. Our bee’s honey was so delicious and our family and friends were so appreciative. It was a rewarding and sweet time in our lives and your posts have brought back many happy memories for me. Thank you.
Not really a story–but the yarn looks so luscious. We have a neighbor, down the street, who we don’t know pesonally–but they keep bees. I sometimes see the bees in my garden (I’m always surprised to see honey bees, don’t know why). It’s nice to think that some part of my flowers will become honey!
OK, this is gonna be a long one, but I can’t resist. This is more about yellow jackets than bees, but I lump all flying, stinging insects into one category. And that category is called Run for Your Life.
I have always been terrified of bees even though, until recently, I had never been stung. The fact that I had never been stung suggests that my preferred method of bee avoidance – dropping anything I’m holding and running when a bee approaches – works pretty well. However…
A couple of years ago I had stopped using the side door to my house because there was – you guessed it – a beehive slowly expanding near the door and I refused to go near it. So I went out the front door, which we hadn’t used in years. The next thing I knew, I had been stung 4 times on my back. Of course I ran for my life, then swore loudly for several minutes while picking up random things in the yard and throwing them in rage. Then I cautiously approched the house again to figure out what had happened. It turned out that when I went out the front door, my head had passed within a foot of a yellow jacket nest – the little bastards had made a nest on our porch light.
I generally have a “live and let live” arrangement with all creatures, but attacking me means the deal is OFF. So I prepared to go commando on those yellow jackets (and any others I could find), but I had to figure out a way to get them without opening myself up to further stings.
Now, keep in mind that I was blinded by pain and a desire for revenge, and maybe had a weird reaction to the yellow jacket venom too. At least that’s my explanation for this behavior. I armed myself with a couple of cans of Raid, and locked myself into my car for protection. But I had to figure out a way to spray the yellow jackets without letting them into the car, because those suckers are aggressive. So I rolled down the window just a little bit, and then covered the opening with duct tape, just leaving a little hole in the middle to point the spray can through. Kind of like a tank, with those little holes in the armor that the guns come out of, see? And I drove onto the front yard as close to the front door as I could, and I let those yellow jackets have it. Then I continued driving around the house, spraying any other nests I found. I even drove down by the barn and sprayed the ones that were making a nest on my horse’s water tank. You can imagine what this sight might have looked like to someone who didn’t appreciate my well-thought-out plan, but fortunately no one but me was home to witness the event.
I love the stories, the the shawl (and yarn!) is bee-utiful. (sorry. couldn’t resist!).
Mine is a honey story: My mother-in-law is Polish, and her mother kept bees. Her brother, who still lives in Poland, has the house and the bees (well, probably their great-great-great-grandchildren). Last summer, my husband went to Poland for language school, and visited relatives. He came home with 4 huge jars of the honey–you should have seen the look on my MIL’s face–pure bliss. She said it tasted like her childhood. π
My Bee story:I moved in December of 2005 from the big city to the country…fast. my house was sold, the new owner wanted it pronto, I had to find a place to live fast. I did, just outside a small town and in a little community of “manufactured homes”.
The landlords didn’t tell me their was a hollow tree with bees in it. I discovered the humming a few days after moving in. The bees are wonderful, they cross pollinate my hot and sweet peppers without even trying. The whole colony will leave sometimes and abandon the tree for a few months, then back to the tree. Moving in for them is a swarm about the size of a car hovering near the hole for hours. Housekeeping is very precise and move in is very organized. I only wish they could organize my life!!
So next time you hear the term” Busy as a bee”, it really is work!!
Your glee over the honey yarn reminds me of how excited I was to find acacia honey at whole foods for my girls. We have two sugar gliders and it makes me really happy to be able to give them something native… even if I can only give it to them sparingly.
A couple of years ago, I was housesitting for a friend, and noticed she had some bees building a nest in the eaves outside the back door.
Well, I apparently had heard somewhere that if you spray the nest with a hose, that will kill the bees. So I decided to do that.
From about 10 feet away.
Needless to say, the bees were very unhappy with me and to make a really long sotry short, I ended up stripping down to my skivvies in the backyard to get the bees out of my clothes.
And I had no idea her private backyard wasn’t so private.
The end.
I hope you are doing okay – sounds like you’ve got some dark clouds, but everything turns out okay in the end. If it’s not okay, it’s not the end π
What gorgeous yarn! The Bee Shawl is definitely a must knit on my list of lace projects.
I don’t know if this is an actual story, but my father (who will be 80 in November) has often told me about his first paying job. He worked with a honey “farmer” with bees (a lot of bees) when he was 15-16 years old. He has a lot of stories about being stung, how to avoid being stung, and one very scary ride to haul the honey to the southern part of our state. The gentleman for whom he worked passed away many years ago, but up to his passing, he brought our family a big container of honey at least 2x a year. Nothing like fresh honey!
Thank you for offering the beautiful yarn!
I don’t know if you could call this my “favorite” bee story but it’s a bee story, none the less. When I was in college, the building that my teaching classes were in was the oldest on campus. It was attached to the building that housed the Priests who lived at the College. Most of the priests were old and kept the heat in the winter way up in the 80’s and on long into the spring. The college was in the Northeast and we’d go to class bundled in our ski coats, hats and gloves with tee shirts underneith because it would be a sauna in the class. One cool spring day when the heat was still on, I wore a wind breaker to class. We were having a test that day and the teacher passed out the blue books. I was trying to get the wind breaker off because the classroom was 90 degrees and all of a sudden my left arm felt like it was on fire. I couldn’t get the jacket off fast enough. There must have been 2 or 3 bees in there and they stung my fore arm and it burned and swelled up. I still had to take the test. At least I wasn’t allergic.
I was about 10 years old and outside for physical education. We were practicing our long jump, which, being the shortest girl in our class, wasn’t my best sport to begin with…
I jumped as far as I could — a pretty good jump if I do say so myself… landed and fell forward on my knees… right onto a nest! I ended up with stings all over my hands and knees — and never trusted that sandpit again!
No allergies or problems — just embarrassment!
In my adult life, my younger dog Molly, a shepherd/newfoundland cross, loves to catch things that fly… she’s always catching and eating flies — and yes, bees. You should see her catch one, spit it out after being stung, pick it back up again, get stung again, and eventually eat the poor creature who didn’t stand a chance even armed with a stinger!
Love your blog!
Now, this story really wasn’t that great while it was occurring but, looking back on it, I find it quite hysterical now. My entire family was over to my grandma’s house for one of our many summer BBQs. We were all outside playing croquet on a quite warm day. My sister was about 8 and had fairly long hair, to the middle of her back, and was running around playing between her turns. We’re really not sure what happened next but my sister was soon flipping her hair back and forth, looking much like an 80’s head-banger, screaming that there was a bee in her hair. I was TERRIFIED that something really bad was about to happen to her, but it was all my mother could do to keep a straight face and try to calm her down enough to let the bee fly away from her hair ‘maelstrom!’ It was quite the scene!
When I was in 4th grade, I was stung on my right hand while out picking flowers in the dump near my house (how idyllic). My hand kept getting bigger…and bigger…and bigger… until finally I couldn’t bend my fingers and I looked ridiculous.
The next day at school my hand was still large enough to cause a stir. That afternoon we watched a Donald Duck cartoon in which donald visits Brazil (I think)- at one point donald blows into his thumb and inflates his hand. Everyone thought that was hilarious and unimaginatively called me “donald duck hand” for years afterwards.
Hi Cara
This is actually Carl’s bee story. Carl is my son, the first born of a set of triplets with Down Syndrome and mysterious or magical powers of healing. Carl was 5 years old at the time and he and I along with my sister and mother had gone to Mt. Vernon, IL for the annual Cedarhurst Craft Show at the Mitchell Museum. It was a sunny, late summer Midwest day with all manner of bug and butterfly buzzing and fluttering around. Carl thought that all bugs, buzzing or fluttering, were butterflies. Carl and I were walking towards the food booths when Carl bent down and pick-up a bee. It stung him, he dropped it and then he wailed, TOP-OF-HIS-LUNGS-WAILED. I grabbed ice out of my drink and held it on his hand, for about 20 seconds. That was it. He stopped crying as suddenly as he started crying and when I looked at his hand the red welt that had started to form was gone. GONE! I looked at him, he smiled at me and all was well. For about 15 minutes and then he did it again. He caught another bee! This time I saw Carl going for the bee, but could not stop him in time. The bee stung him, Carl dropped the bee and SCREAMED. I grabbed some ice and held it on Carl hand and then it was over. Just that suddenly it was all better. No tears, no red face from crying and no bee sting welt. NONE! Carl has not been stung by a bee since that beautiful late summer afternoon, but to this day all things that buzz and flutter about are BEES.
Hi Cara,
Everytime I see bees (or wasps) I remember the time my poor border collie stepped on a ground nest entrance, and he was SWARMED by bees…Mom and I (I was about 8 years old) had no idea what to do, so she called the Animal Control office, and they told her to hose him down until the bees got off him. I just picture my poor miserable dog standing there getting hosed down, and looking at us saying “I hate getting wet, but I know you are helping me.” What a sorry face he had! I don’t think he got stung very badly, he did have a lot of long fur, and he was OK later on that day. He was the best dog a kid could have.
What an awesome list of experiences!
I’ll toss mine in..
My husband and I make mead. Instead of fermenting grape juice to make wine, we use honey. It is one of the most ancient forms of booze π and it’s fun to make! We like to use local honies for subtle flavor differences depending on what crops the bees visited but we sometimes play with additional flavors and spices like vanilla, clove, star anise and coffee.
Thanks for another great give-away!
I love your bee story! π I would freak out too if there were dead bees in my bed.
My bee story:
I worked at a 1950s style drive in restaurant while in high school and college. The bees there were really horrible due to all the root beer and ice cream we served. I was getting stung almost once a week. Fortunately, I am not allergic to bees. We used to spend our days trying to shoo bees out of the restaurants and out of the root beer mugs. Not cool. Anyway, now whenever I see a bee near me, I think back to my high school job. π
when I was 13 I was walking through a field with my sister when it suddenly felt like my arm was being stabbed by a sharp pin. I quickly pulled my arm up, looked at it and saw a bee hanging from it by the stinger. I immediately started screaming, shaking my arm and running to my mommie. Of course by the time I got to the cabin we were staying in [it was a summer vacation] there was no sign of the bee but I was left with a red, sore bump. It wasn’t so much the sting that made me scream, it was the fact that the bee was attached to my arm that made me run and freak out like a nut.
On the day that B and I moved into our place, we noticed a huge ass bee hive with several hundred bees swarming around, near the back door. We then noticed that some bees were getting into the house via the skylight. Day 2 involved our first encounter with our new landlady and a visit from a bee guy. Talk about a nice housewarming.
When I was 11 our family won a contest to go on a holiday in Florida. It was great to escape winter and explore sunny, warm, humid Florida. What I didn’t expect was the many insects that live in such a climate. We encountered jumping spiders and had a colony of red ants take over the rental car (we chewed gum like crazy and spit it on the floor so the ants would stick to it). While cruising down the highway, a huge black bee got in through the window. I was terrified of bees and wasps having been stung in the armpit a few years before. This bee was immense and the only logical way to escape it was to crawl through the window. My parents screamed at me, my Dad slowed down to pull the car over, my brother was hysterical and I had unknowingly given the bee a perfect target – my bottom stuck in the air as I hung half out the window. It hurt but the worst part was my Dad yelling that we had to catch it and keep it in case it was poisonous (it looked much more noxious than the bees in Alberta, Canada). They squashed the bee and Mum wrapped it in tinfoil and put it in the glove compartment, my brother and I cried, I thought I’d be dead from venom in a few hours and my back was sore from sitting balanced on one butt cheek. Of course, after a couple hours and some fried shrimp at Howard Johnsons, I was fine.
Thanks Cara – it was fun recalling this.
Now how ever am I going to do this? I hail from Arizona. Now I’d tell you that we barely have plants there but that’s not quite true. The fact is that I never saw many bees…they tend to congregate around flowers…of which there are a dearth in the desert…mostly. However. Everywhere has their own particular type of honey. We have our Buckwheat honey and our Red Clover honey. There is Tupelo honey and orange blossom honey. But the desert provides the best IMHO — Mesquite honey. If it is too dry, the mesquite doesn’t bloom…and there is no honey at all. So my most recent visit home entailed a search for my favorite. I came home with five pints of the delicious stuff. And so, eventhough I rarely see one…I am deeply grateful to the bees!
I don’t have a bee story, but I’ll email you one of my best bee photos. I couldn’t figure out how to get it into the post.
Sage honey. It is so delicious it makes me bonkers. I can’t really figure out why I like it so much better than other honeys. I get jars of sage honey at the Farmer’s market and then leave the lid loose so it gets a bit crystallized. Then I can scoop it out with a spoon and stir it into my tea. YUM! Thanks bees!
That yarn is so beautiful- as is your bee shawl!! π
I’ve got a couple of bee stories. When I was 5, I was at the cemetery with my uncle. He was planting flowers around the gravestones of some relatives, and I was running around barefoot, jumping off headstones. Can you see where this is going? I managed to land on top of a bee. It didn’t hurt much that day, but the next day my foot had swollen up huge and I couldn’t walk. My parents had to take me to the ER and I was stuck with an ace-wrapped foot & ankle for a few days.
My uncle, who farms in North Dakota, used to keep bees for a friend of his. He got lots of free honey from his friend, and my uncle was generous enough to give us plenty of honey. Prairie honey is the best, imo!! Unfortunately, his friend has stopped keeping bees on my uncle’s farm, as the majority of the market wants specific honeys (ie, clover honey or orange honey, etc). My family is quite sad about that…my uncle’s honey was by far better than that from the grocery store.
I’ll opt for a cute bee memory…my nephew’s first Halloween costume was a bumble bee. My brother dressed up as a bee keeper & my SIL was a flower. His younger brother wore the costume too a couple of years later. Such cuties!
What beautiful yarn! I can’t wait to buy a kit and make a Bee Shawl for myself. Whenever I see honey, I think of my Dad. He put honey on everything.
My mom is allergic to bees. So the only bee story I can think of is when I was little. I was sitting on the curb of the sidewalk and a bee flew up my shorts and stung my a$$ twice! Now, this was the first time I had been stung, so everyone was worried I would be allergic like my mom, but I wasn’t.
My comment is not regarding your usual bee but how we came to call my oldest son, Bee. When Bee was a baby he was extremely crabby and suffered horribly from colic. NOT happy, EVER. So my oldest sister always called him Mr. Brendan, cause someone that crabby you didn’t want to tick off….lol. Soon we shortened Mr. Brendan to Mr. B and as he grew it was shortened again to just BEE. He is now 9 years old and while he is not as crabby anymore….well sometimes…lol….he still is called BEE.
Thank you
I don’t have a great bee story, but I make a fabulous fruit salad with honey. Chop up all of your favorite fruit, toss it in a bowl. Top it with a generous helping of cottage cheese, drizzle honey over it and sprinkle it with sunflower seeds. Yum!
Although I am not allergic (as far as I know), I’ve always been terrified of bees and wasps, etc. It’s the hovering. It creeps me out. Here is my story:
When I was little, we used to go to my grandma’s house every summer for a couple of weeks. When I got to be about 8 (maybe older, maybe younger… the memory is a bit fuzzy), I was allowed to walk to the corner store and back by myself. There was nothing I wanted to buy (I’ve never had a sweet tooth), but the sense of freedom was incredible. I remember feeling like the world was huge when there were no parents around. The first time I walked there alone, I looked at everything in the store (imagining that I seemed very grown-up) and left without buying anything. On the way home, a bee landed on the face of my bright pink and blue watch. I was terrified, and no parents were around to help. I knew I was supposed to stay still, but I was out in the middle of the world all alone and I wanted nothing more than my parents. I walked all the way home as slowly as possible (it probably took me ten times as long as it should have), holding my hand as far away from my body as possible. The bee stayed on my watch the whole way. When I got to the door, he just flew away to inspect my grandma’s flowers. Very anticlimactic.
Wow, what a great contest! I’ve been pretty bee-free, but I have one small story.
One summer when I was around 8 or 9 years old, I went to my friend Angie’s house to see if she wanted to come out and play. Her front door was flanked by too, giant holly bushes. I approached the door, and started to reach my left pointer finger to the doorbell when I realized that bees were swarming both bushes. Hundreds of them.
I slowly backed away and just stood there trying to figure out what to do. I really wanted to hang out with Angie, but I couldn’t bring myself to go anywhere near the door. I think I hung around for about 15 minutes, willing Angie to come outside, but she never did.
In the end, I went home. I was too petrified to ring the bell.
When we were little my younger sister was fascinated by the fuzziness of honeybees. We were taking a walk with my aunt one morning and said sister decided that since they looked so fuzzy they must be good for petting. She ended up getting stung at which point she told us some story about “night of the living dead vampire bees” and how the bee sting was going to make her a zombie vampire bee. Of course, this was also the time in her life that she traveled with an army of imaginary squirrels so her imagination had a serious tendency towards being over-active.
Bee story … having just gone in and applied for and received our marriage license for the upcoming nuptials, as we left the building a bee flew up my skirt and stung me on the inner thigh.
Since bees represent productivity and prosperity, I chose to see the sting, swelling, and subsequent itching as a good sign. The garter was none to comfortable but 14 years and two beautiful children later the symbology seems to have been accurate.
Really enjoy your creative and fun blog, first time commentor, Erin
i actually quite like bees.
my most memorable sting happened when i was at camp. i was walking barefoot in the field to our cabin, and must have stepped on it! my fourth toe was the size of my big toe within an hour. π surprisingly didn’t hurt all that much, but it did .. well… sting for a while. π
the much better bee information, if not an actual story… my sister now keeps bees! when i was last home last summer i got to put on a big bee outfit, when she opened up their home to show me how the honeycomb was coming along(!) it wasn’t even close to ready, she had really recently started, but it was great fun! and i got a few funny pictures out of it too!
i don’t have a bee story, unless you count my devastating loss of the fourth grade spelling bee during which i spelled a-i-s-l-e quite beautifully when they were in fact looking for i-s-l-e, but i am obviously so desperate to have the beautiful bee shawl kit that i had an extremely vivid dream wherein i was asking everyone i knew if they had a great bee story for me. no one did, except my dad, and his was wondrous and fabulous and made me laugh and cry and covet the bee he was telling epic tales of, but when i awoke, all i could remember was a golden bee with green eyes and my dad saying, “and that is why i call you honey…”
I will spare everybody of my bee experiments. As a child I used to be obsessed with bees and used to catch them and bring them home to my sister’s great dismay as she is and was scared of all thing insect. Nowadays besides eating lots of honey and planning on getting beehives when the hubby and I move out of the city, I occasionally make beeswax candles. My husband has an uncle (Buck) that keeps bees and saves all the wax for me in his freezer, he also shares the honey wich is wonderfull. When I get to go to TN I bring the whole mess home and sepparate the left over honey from the wax, purify it and make the nicest honey smelling candles. I call them Buck’s Bees…
I’ve only ever been stung by a bee twice, and both times on the feet. The first time, I was running around my grandparents’ lawn barefoot and stepped on one. The second time, though, I was doing homework at the kitchen table in my dad’s cabin in the woods. I shifted position to cross my legs, and felt a sharp pain in the top of my foot. I thought maybe I’d hit it on a loose nail or something. I moved back and looked at my foot, trying to see where I’d hurt it, but I couldn’t see anything. So I pulled my sandal off to see if maybe it was covering the wound, and that’s when the bee that had been sitting on my sandal flew away and I realized I had been stung. The area started to get inflamed from the sting, and I realized that it had stung me right in the middle of a small mole that I had on the top of my foot.A few days later, after the sting had healed, I noticed that the mole on my foot had changed. It wasn’t round anymore — it was the shape of a heart! I don’t know why the bee sting made the mole change shape, but it’s been a heart ever since, and I love it! I never thought I would end up pleased by the result of a bee sting…
I’m quite a fan of bees, in fact my name means honey bee. When I was younger I took a class on bees. They have always fascinated me with their ability to work cooperatively, their female driven society and their importance to our food supply. To commemorate all this bee love I got a tattoo of a bee on my wrist about a year and a half ago.
I took me months to find the right bee. I looked all over the internet, in books, magazines, etc. to find just the right bee. Finally, while flipping through the back ad section in Bust, I found the perfect bee. A pink outlined turquoise bee in a vintage clothing ad. Two weeks later I went to a tattoo parlor and had it inked onto the inside of my wrist. The tattoo artist thought it was a cool tattoo since it isn’t a traditional black-line tattoo, I even got put into her book. I love it; I can’t imagine anything else as my first tattoo.
Although I have had a few run-ins with bees since, my bee story is from when I was a child and had to sit in the front seat in my father’s Buick between my parents. I must have been about five or six but I still remember clearly. No air conditioning in those days so my parents always had all the windows open including the triangle shaped side one. Bees always hit that window and flew right into the middle of the car and right into me. I was always getting stung. My parents used to stop and get some ice to put on it. But they never shut that side vent window. I hated riding in the middle!
By the way, I was in Volunteers for Israel too at around the time you were and I was at the same base! It was January and it never got really hot. I remember being glad I brought my down coat. But I never saw any bees there, luckily.
I vividly remember stepping into a yellow jacket nest (they nest in the ground) when I was about 8 years old – our family was visting friends. I was stung several times and I remember lying in the back of our station wagon (remember this was 40 yrs ago, back when noone wore seatbelts!) in pain. Yellow jackets are nasty.
Let’s see…when I was in first grade in California, we started every school day saying the Pledge of Allegiance gathered around the flag outside the school. One morning while saying the pledge I felt a tickle on my right cheek. Thinking that it was a stray hair, or maybe a fly, I rubbed at my right cheek with my shoulder.
“I pledge allegiance to the AAAAAAAUGH!”
Teachers came running over to see what all the screaming was about. There was the dead bee, still on my shoulder, and already my right cheek was beginning to swell. They took me to the nurse’s office, and she immediately called my mother. While my mother rushed to pick me up, my face continued to swell, and they were sure I was having an allergic reaction. My mom picked me up and rushed me to the hospital.
Turns out, the bee managed to hit a major blood vessel, which quickly spread his venom through my face. I don’t have even the slightest hint of an allergy to bee stings – the two times I’ve been stung since then have been nothing more than slight annoyances, quickly cleared up by a bit of baking soda paste.
When I was little, I remember being so afraid of the bumblebee nest in our backyard that I didn’t go outside much for one whole summer. Our yard was pretty big, but I guess I didn’t want to take any chances!
When I was a bit older, I received my one and (as yet) only bee sting. I was one or two strides away from flying off a diving board at a local pool, when I felt what seemed to be a piece of wet paper on the bottom of my foot. Turns out it was a bee (poor thing), and it stung me as I was in the air, mid-dive. I went into the water screaming, then tried to “kick away” the pain once fully submerged. Suprisingly, the kicking didn’t do much, and it still hurt. My dad removed the stinger in the shallow section of the pool, which helped. I don’t remember any itching, just my screaming, flailing belly-smack of a dive!
Now I have a kind of affection for bees (though from a reasonable distance), and enjoy watching them make their rounds in our backyard. We just did our first gardening (in our first-ever yard) yesterday, and I got a kick out of watching the bees check out the new plants this morning. Such amazing little creatures!
My bee story is not a happy one, you know that old saying if you leave “it” alone “it” will leave you alone, well in this story that is not true. I am the oldest of four girls, and one of my sisters and I always seemed to have difficulty getting along. Well one day when I was around seven and my sister was around three, we had managed to put our differences aside for a little while and were playing nicely together in the yard. Well we ended up in the position of me pushing her nicely on the swing and then WHAM! Out of nowhere (and unprovoked) I was hit in the eye by something. I stopped pushing the swing and ran into the house, where I proceeded to share my story with my mom, whom at the conclusion looked at my eye and discovered a little tiny stinger sticking out right below my eye on my lower eyelid. She removed the stinger at once and placed an ice pack on my eye. Unfortunately, that is not where this story ends, as it turns out I am allergic to bee stings and my eye proceeded to swell to about the size of a baseball, which I had to live with for about 4 days before it started to return to normal. About a month after I managed to step on a bee and had my foot swell to twice its size. Even considering all of this, I still love a good cup of tea with a bit of honey to sip while I am sitting in my chair knitting.
Oddly enough, this past Saturday afternoon… My lovely Golden Retreiver, rolled in ‘something so vile – that I wasinvoluntary wretchin’… Therefore, this called for a bath! Dakota is approx. 100lbs!… so this bath took place outdoors… After said, came the hours of brushing… and brushing… I was sitting ‘on the deck flooring’ as I was brushing him… I had to stop, as it then started to rain.. When I stood up, I received a shock of pain, in a rather private area, and then another…WHere I then saw the little bugger (yellow jacket) drop out of my shorts… Lordy bee!.Last time, I was stung by a bee, was about 32 years ago!!! Which I then promptly ran thru the sliding doors into the kitchen yelling for my hubby, at the same time ripping my shorts off. My 11 yr old son, looked and yelled “OH NO!! I can’t watch this!!” and ran out of the room…!!!! LOL…Of course, my husband probably was getting a different idea…There you have it… the Bee story of 40yr old!!! LOL
The Honey color is really too luscious – just what I was envisioning for the shawl. I love Ann’s patterns – I’ve been working on Hypoteneuse – first in a lovely Koigu periwinkle and now in Mostly Merino copper and a dark periwinkle. Anyhooo – bee story – my True Love and his Son are alergic to bees – scary allergic – so, low and behold, soon after I had moved in with them, someone (not me) had opened the sliding glass door in the back and a Huge, and I mean H-U-G-E bee got in. There it was flying around the kitchen! Oh no oh no! Somehow we got it to sliding glass back door and we thought it got out – but oh no – it flew up into the vertical blinds in front of them. We opened the door and it flew out – whew! Believe me, while my writing does not convey the terror that this bee brought into my household, it was worse than “Nightmare on Elm Street”. And that’s my (scary) bee story…. All the Best to you and your knitting on the bee shawl! Can’t wait to see it as it progresses….
I wish my bee stories were more amusing than they are. I’ve been stung a number of times, and my reaction gets more severe each time. The last time, though, is mysterious even yet, as I managed to get stung on the bottom of my foot while I was wearing shoes. I know, I’ve got mad skillz, yo. True, the shoes were sandals, but how does one step on a bee with bare foot when there is a sole of a sandal on the bottom of said foot? However it is achieved, the work was done, and then my foot ballooned until it became four times the size that it usually is, and ten times as disgusting. We called in professionals to gauge the disgusting, and truly, a bloated giant foot rates high on the Wheel O’ Disgust. Then, when it had reached the limit of size, the skin hardened. I don’t know why, but this seems to be part of the increasing reaction to bee stings. Despite the frustration with all of this, I still feel basically amiable toward bees. They pay the ultimate price when they sting, after all, so I suppose some swelling and discomfort is worth the cost of getting to go on living. And honey, in both taste and color, is scrumptious. Congratulations on a gorgeous color of yarn and a lovely new project.
The bees seem to want me to enter this contest. As I sat here reading everyone’s bee stories a little bumblebee just flew in my window and buzzed around my computer screen.
I was out in my community garden plot yesterday. The bees were everywhere, happily gorging themselves on all of the yellow squash blooms. Another gardener was also out watering and weeding. She was wearing a bright orange T-shirt. I watched a very large bumblebee buzz around her back looking for the source of nectar that the colour normally advertises. It finally buzzed off looking, to me, very disappointed.
Ah, I ordered this pattern and kit too. It looks beautiful.
My bee story is from a family trip to Mexico when I was five. We drove down from Toronto in a VW Bug and stopped at motels with swimming pools along the way. It was 1968, and my mother had bought a special new bathing cap for the trip. It was rubber, with rubber leaves and flowers all over it. The flowers were so realistic that they fooled the bees so whenever she wore it, she had a cloud of bees around her head! I can still remember the sight of it.
My favorite rememberance of bees is the bumble bees in the Tetons. Bees cannot fly until the temperature is warm enough so I discovered that each wildflower in the meadow where we were camped contained a bumble bee waiting for the sun to warm him up. Since they were immobilized I took the opportunity to stroke their fuzzy backs.
My Bee Story –
When my younger brother was a toddler, just learning how to talk (he’s 24 now), he was playing in the front yard while a few of us were on the back patio. We heard this bloodcurdling shriek and he came tearing through the yard and threw himself at our mother’s legs. No one could see anything wrong, he wasn’t even muddy from any sort of fall, and it took about five minutes to get it out of him –
“Mommy! I tried to pet the bee!”
My bee story is actually my sister’s bee story. She was 4, it was a very hot summer day, and my mother took us to the public swimming pool. My mother was laying on a towel, and just as my sister was about to step on a bee, my mother grabbed her ankle, and my sister tripped and fell. By the next morning, she still could not stand (we thought she was just being a brat), so we took her to the ER. Turned out she had a broken leg. This was the only time any of the children in our family had a broken bone, and we still do not let my mother forget that it was her fault. The bee? Turned out it was already dead.
My bee story is so embarassing, I’m blushing just thinking about it as I type it. I’ll start off by saying I matured fast for my age, and at the age of 15 I had a shape grown women were slapping their husbands upside their heads for looking in my direction. Anywho, I was a Junior counselor at a camp in the bronx. We took the kids to central park one hot NYC day, and as I’m trying to manage the kids, and organize them into 1 STRAIGHT line I was stung by a bee right under my derrier. Thing where your leg meets the butt, yes right there. Fortunately for me, the FINE as all get out Senior Counselor knew how to remove bee stings quite expertly. With extreme concentration, and him on bended knee, with one hand propped on one of my cheeks, he expertly, after what seemed like forever, removed the stinger. Did I mention how gawjus this guy was? Oh and remember the straight line I was trying to get the kids in? Well they sure lined up straight, to view how a stinger is removed from someone! From that day on I was never able to look that gawjus man in the face. I honestly thought I would die of sheer embarassment at the time, and actually considered quitting.
Thanks for letting me revisit, to this day one of my most embarassing moments.
Necia
I have two bee stories, neither of them mine. The first involves my sister. She was 4, it was a very hot summer day, and my mother took us to the public swimming pool. My mother was laying on a towel, and just as my sister was about to step on a bee, my mother grabbed her ankle, and my sister tripped and fell. By the next morning, she still could not stand (we thought she was just being a brat), so we took her to the ER. Turned out she had a broken leg. This was the only time any of the children in our family had a broken bone, and we still do not let my mother forget that it was her fault. The bee? Turned out it was already dead.
The second story is my husband’s. When he was two and his sister was 13, she became incredibly sick from (at that time) undiagnosed diabetes. My husband’s explanation: she swallowed a bee.
My bee story isn’t that good – but it is a little embarassing. When I was in first grade, we were outside for recess and my friend and I ran over to hop on the seesaw. We were in such a hurry to get started playing that I didn’t even look down, just plunked down on the seat. The problem? There was a bee sitting there and so I ended up getting stung on the bum. Not exactly my best elementary school moment π
I am SUCH a city girl that I have never really BEEN around bees. Once in a blue moon (pun intended), I’ll see one or two in the summer, but I seriously prefer going from air-conditioned living room, to air-conditioned bus or car, to air-conditioned mall or office in the summertime. π
The summer after I graduated from college, I celebrated by traveling around Europe and meeting various friend along the way. For two weeks, I Eurail’ed it with one of my best friends, who has an aunt and uncle in Switzerland. Walking around Bern with her aunt one day, I was randomly stung by a bee on my right foot. It hurt, but not too badly, so I declined my friend’s aunt’s (she’s a nurse) offer to put together a solution I could soak my foot in to decrease the swelling. Well, I should have listened to the nurse. The next day, after an overnight train to Florence and walking around for 8 hours straight, my foot, bursting out of my sneaker, had blown up to several times its regular size, with little red streaks going up my ankle. I could actually feel the fluid sloshing in my foot — GROSS! I called my mom and she freaked. Ends up, I had a strep infection in my foot! Three days and two nasty hostels later, it was much better. If you asked me what the worst part of it was, I would say it was having to miss the Etruscan museum outside of Rome because I wasn’t supposed to be walking. If you ask my friend, she’ll say it was me totally ruining her chances with the hot Italian guy in our train compartment because I had my nasty balloon foot propped up on the seat and it freaked him out. At least it made that part of the trip memorable!!
Note — my mom tells me that after I called her that night to tell her about my foot (and she freaked out), she immediately called and asked some of her friends to pray that in that dirty hostel in Italy in the middle of the night, that someone with knowledge would be there if the infection happened to get worse. Well, moments later, when my friend and I checked into our room, we met our roommates: a couple from Czechoslovakia who were entering their last year of medical school.
P.S. Your shawl is going to be gorgeous — I can’t wait to see it finished!
Lovely yarn! It’s going to make a beautiful shawl.
My story isn’t as exciting as others, but I’ve been stung on both thumbs, on different occasions, just below the nail bed, so I have matching twin bee-sting scars on my thumbs.
I don’t know if it counts as a bee ‘story’ or not but I have a one year old lab mix that likes to chase, and eat, bees.
My bee story is silly. I freak about almost any flying insect but we had just moved into our house and were fixing up the run-in shed to put our horses in there. I’m holding the T-something (some sort of outside plywood) and hear a buzzing. Of course I drop the board and run screaming away. My husband (after uttering a curse word for the board hitting him) starts laughing – it’s just a carpenter bee!! Well – they make big holes don’t they! Just call me Ms Outdoors!!
So many stories. Here’s one more…
Me and bees are not really friends. I have been stung about 5 times. Once on the thumb when I was shaking out my sleeping bag (this bee was not dead), once one crawled up the leg of my shorts and stung me on the inner (inner!) thigh. Some others were the run-of-the-mill stung in the arm stuff.
The worst one happened about 10 years ago. I was riding my bike when something small and hard hit me in the face. I figured it was a loose rock or bug and though a bit surprised, I just shook it off, rubbed my cheek and kept going. A few minutes later I had this terrible, awful, burning, stabbing pain on my right side near the waist band of my shorts. I screamed out, stopped my bike and started pulling my blouse out of my shorts to figure out what the hell happened. Out flew a bee who left its stinger in my side.
The bee and I ran into each other, the impact stunned it and it fell into the neck of my tucked-in shirt. It was none to happy when it woke up and I had a 10 cm diameter red puffy ITCHY circle on my abdomen as the proof.
Thankfully, I haven’t been stung since.
When I was little and I would pout, my mama used to tell me to stop or a bee would come and sting my bottom lip. One day, when I was about 4, I was sitting on the front step of our cabin in Castle Valley, Utah (the beehive state!), eating a grapefruit and pouting. Before I knew what happened, a bee came down and stung my bottom lip. I was sad and had a fat lip for about a week but I was also slightly terrified of my mom after that because I thought she made the bee come sting me.
This isn’t my favorite bee story, but it’s my most recent. My son has been painting the eaves and trim on our house. He discovered the hard way that bees had found a sagging board on the side of our house and nested up inside it. When he started to scrape the old paint off, out they came. I haven’t seen him jump that far since he was 4. He took flight off his ladder and started running down the block. He outran all but two of them, poor kid.
I love Wooly Wonka’s fibers–I think it’s the bee’s knees (har har) that Anne is getting so much good exposure from this. π
I was all lamenting when I read this post, because dude, I have no bee stories!
But then this morning, as I was getting dressed for work, I picked up my jeans from on top of the clothes basket (because we never get around to putting clean laundry away before it’s time to get dressed again), and caught sight of a dark blob on the jeans. (I get dressed in the dark bedroom because I’m out the door before the rest of my family and I try not to wake them before they have to be up)
I thought, wait, this IS clean laundry, right? So I sniffed at it, bringing the jeans close to my face to do so.
The blob was evidently a bee, because I got stung, right on my face. There was a BEE on my CLEAN JEANS. Just sitting there, hanging out all by himself. What’s up with THAT? I put him outside, but at that point I think I’ve read it’s curtains for the bee. I have no idea how he got there, what he was doing, or why he felt that my face near the jeans was worth flying up to sting. Thank goodness I’m not allergic — it’s just annoying. I get the itch, but that’s all I get. Meat tenderizer to the rescue! Did you know that putting meat tenderizer on a sting is supposed to draw out the venom and keep it from swelling? I have no idea how true that is, but my mother always did that to me when I got stung, so it’s a ritual I keep up to this day.
So yeah. Now I have a bee story. (but I’m gonna be totally paranoid now about my laundry.)
When my oldest daughter was 4 and my son was 2 they were outside playing in the backyard. All of a sudden my husband and I heard the screams and chaos and both kids came running in as we were running out to the back. We asked what was wrong and my son said “I got stung by a bee!”. We then asked our daughter what was wrong and she said “The bee looked at me!”. It was funny. That is the only bee story I can remember.
Gorgeous color way for the shawl! I am in live with it.
When I graduated from college, I went to live on a farm for a year because I hadn’t found a job. A friend was living there as a caretaker. He had bee hives and let me work with him when he harvested the honey. The bees buzzing around my head never bothered me. He’d bring any new girlfriend out to visit the farm and ask if she wanted to see the hives. If she was game, she passed the test. No bees, she got dumped. The following spring, one of the hives swarmed and I helped him catch the hive and put it in a new box. This all happened on my birthday and when we were finished, he turned to me and said “This hive must be yours since it’s your birthday!” It’s probably the most unusual birthday present I’ve ever gotten and I loved it. I had it for about 3 years until I moved and had to give it away.
Love the bee shawl. When I first saw it, I knew I would have to knit it!
My mother indirectly caused my first bee sting. We had just hauled the mattress and box spring of my old bed out of the house. The mattress pad was still on the mattress. Mom took it off, but decided not to return into the house with me and tossed the mattress pad to me, catching a bee between it an my arm. Ouch!
I’ve been stung by bees before but the most memorable time was when I was outside talking to a friend on a payphone (loooong time ago) when something started buggung me so I swatted at it. Naturally it was a bee and swatting it caused it to sting my knee which blew up huge!!! No clubbing that night.
My husband got stung worse and funnier though. He was at a water park with my kids and another family (I don’t recall where I was that day) and they went to grab lunch. My DH wet to take a sip of Coke and got stung on the tongue. I’m sure it was painful for him but the kids thought it was hilarious. His was talking funny for days. I remember it every time I pick up a can of soda.
Lets see, a bee story.
I work during the school year with high needs children in small groups, and one of my duties was to take my group to lunch, then recess. One very sweet autistic child would stop and pick clover flowers for us every day. One day, as I was helping one of our kids walk up the ginormous set of stairs to our building, he ambled over to show us the bug he had caught, but I was really focused on the other kid and said something to the effect of “That’s nice.” The other para started freaking out, and I looked up to see the boy holding a huge bumble bee–by the wings! I quickly handed the kid I was working with over to the other para, and calmly explained that picking up a bee was not a nice thing to do, and had him set it down. Luckily, the bee flew off, and we went inside.
My daughter used to go to day camp in the summer when she was younger. She had a bottle of juice open as she played with a friend and unbeknownst to her, a couple of bees had crawled in to share her juice with her. Unfortunately, she took a swig of her juice and both the bees stung her tongue. Many, many popsicles later, (and some benedryl) she was trying to explain to us at home what happened, and because of her swollen tongue she couldn’t talk so that we could understand her. So, she pantomimed the whole thing. We were hysterical! To this day, instead (and she’s 18 now and will kill me if she reads this) whenever we are talking about bees we pantomime it just like she did. Never fails to crack us up (she even laughs about it now!
When I was just old enough to be allowed out in the garden by myself I was sent to cut flowers for the table. The Gaillardia (Blanket Flower, my mother called it) was very pretty, but the bloom I wanted had a bee on it. So I swatted the bee off the flower… and screamed blue murder when it came back and stung me. My mother was less than sympathetic: that was an early lesson in ‘live and let live’. I was scared of bees for decades after that until a friend explained that most will die if they sting, so they’re reluctant to do so. I summoned my courage and now… I catch bees trapped behind the window in my bare hands (gently! carefully!) to release them. They’re tiny buzzy teddybears, really. I wish I’d known that years ago.
No need for more BEE STORIES, here is my favorite honey recipe.
3 pounds bone in chicken, 1 cup honey, 1/2 cup soy sauce, 2 tablespoons olive oil, 2 tablespoons ketchup, 1 minced garlic clove, 1 pinch salt and pepper. Place chicken in 13×9 baking dish. Mix other ingredients and pour over chicken, bake at 375 degrees for one hour.
I was stung by a bee (the only time) in the 6th grade while escorting the Kindergarten kids apple picking. I tried so hard NOT to cry because I didn’t want the kindergarten kids to see an older kid cry. It was really tough though, because the bee sting was on my right cheek. I can still remember how it felt almost about 15 year later.
That’s my bee story. I don’t like bees. I now scream around like a little school girl when there is one near me. My husband laughs at me each time. I let him!
Ok, one entry, one person, all my bee stories at one shot, from worst to sort of cool.
1. I’m still always very nervous about walking on or near clover, though I like the look and smell. When I was about 5, I was sitting on my Uncle’s lawn by the clover and holding perfectly still, doing nothing, when I was stung by a bee right in the center of the sole of my foot. Much screaming, being carried into the house, strange pastes, much debate about the stinger, the removal, limping, etc. ensued.
2. Canoeing trip. Noticed a mean, sharp pinching on my leg, under my jeans, scratched it. Another mean, sharp pinch, another scratch. At the third, I decided these were definitely not thorns, and there was a wasp stinging its way up my leg, underneath my jeans. Not easy to get out. Relief was spelled with COLD river water, until it was cool enough that I had to get away from the mosquitoes.
3. My Grandmother Vivian AND her sister-in-law Aunt Rosie (married to my Uncle Homer Holmes) used to catch them with their fingers. Right in the middle of the abdomen – they couldn’t get away and they couldn’t squirm around far enough to sting. People ask me what they did with them after they caught them, and I have to say, I don’t know! It was so freaking amazing to see the catch, I couldn’t possibly have paid attention to what happened afterwards.
When we were kids and would get stung by bees, my mom would put meat tenderizer on it. I remember the kids in the neighborhood making fun of us for it. Their moms used ice. Well, a few years ago, my mom came across an article that said you SHOULD use meat tenderizer on bee stings. The enzymes help with the swelling. My mom was so proud she had to brag, “See! I knew what I was doing all those years. You guys thought I just made this stuff up, but here it is in print!”
I still think it’s weird to put meat tenderizer on yourself…
I don’t have a honey recipe, so I’ll have to go with a bee story. The first time I was ever stung by a bee was when I was about 6 years old. I was in my neighbor’s yard, lying on a towel in my bathing suit after running through the sprinklers (does anyone do that anymore? everyone needs to do that once in awhile). Anyhow, I was lying on my stomach and a bee stung me right on my rear end. I was shocked and horrified and I ran home crying. My mom laughed and laughed. She said it was a good thing that I didn’t swell up like my dad does when he gets stung because if I had, I wouldn’t be able to wear any pants. Since then, I have been stung in some other odd places…once on the finger and once on the back of my neck.
Crap! I forgot another good one. We had two huge hives in the walls of our house when we lived in rural Colorado. We had the bee-hunter-remover guy come and get them out (one hive he had to get twice). He charged us BOTH for the removal AND for the honey, but it was So Cool to eat honey and chew on the honeycombs that had been Inside The Walls of the House. Thanks for shelling out the extra cash, Mom and Dad!
I was sitting in my living room last summer, wearing a bandana on my head because it was really hot. I felt an itch on my head and scratched it. And then my thumb started stinging and feeling Really Weird. Well, this dumb-ass bee had gotten *under* my bandana, and was actually minding its own business, until I went to scratch it. So here’s this dumb bee stuck on my thumb, and I’m flailing about, and all I could think was: “Aghhhh! I’ve never been stung before! What if I swell up and die?! What if my thumb is paralyzed and I can’t KNIT?!”
The bee story that sticks out for me the most is when I was stung when I was 13. I had been stung by bees before but this one takes the cake. I was heading into my freshman year of high school, and I was at cheerleading camp with all of the cool upperclassmen. During the final performance, the one for the big awards, a bee flew into my mouth and stung my tongue. Afraid of making a fool of myself and incurring the wrath of my coach, I went on. No one knew I had been stung by a bee until we were finished, and I ended up on the ground crying. Bee stings can be painful; bee stings on the tongue are horrendous.
Hmm – I think I’ve only had one bee sting…and the circumstances were pretty random. I worked at a before and after school center with hundreds of kids while I was in college. One day during the outside play time I get stung by a bee on the back of my neck (probably one of the worst places in the world to be stung!) and man did it HURT (and yes, I recall an itch, along with intense burning!!!) Worst part was….the kids thought it was hilarious! They all made fun of me for days! Those little boogers!
Wasps are related to bees, so I’m going with a wasp story as I can’t think of a bee story! (altough, I will say, I think bees are nicer – as in, not as mean as wasps)
When I was about 19 and still living at home, my parents had gone away for a week. I had just moved home from college and dragging my stuff in the house, I was dive bombed and stung, not once, but TWICE by a wasp. There was a huge wasp nest on our front porch and there were so many of the suckers that I used the back door for the rest of the week. I was a wimp and was afraid to spray the nest, so I just waited for my dad to get back from vacation! (by the way…everytime I tried to type bees, I typed beers…what does THAT mean?)
Wasps are related to bees, so I’m going with a wasp story as I can’t think of a bee story! (altough, I will say, I think bees are nicer – as in, not as mean as wasps)
When I was about 19 and still living at home, my parents had gone away for a week. I had just moved home from college and dragging my stuff in the house, I was dive bombed and stung, not once, but TWICE by a wasp. There was a huge wasp nest on our front porch and there were so many of the suckers that I used the back door for the rest of the week. I was a wimp and was afraid to spray the nest, so I just waited for my dad to get back from vacation! (by the way…everytime I tried to type bees, I typed beers…what does THAT mean?)
A current, ongoing bee story. Picture a back yard fountain, with the local bees drawn to the running water. Picture Emma, a year old yellow lab, about the color of honey, trying to snap at the bees. Luckily she’s not been bit, yet! Yet, every night when we sit out and enjoy the backyard, it’s a game of “Catch the Bee” and “Emma, Leave it!”
Love the shawl, adore the colors. Thank you for sharing your knitting with the world
Honey recipe? I’ve got one for you! If you have ground almonds, honey, oil, and just a bit of flour, you can make the best cookies ever… Yeah, four ingredients, that’s all it takes! Unfortunately, I don’t have the proportions here with me, but if you want it, I’ll dig it out next time I’ll be at my parents’ place. Though if you want to experiment, here’s what I seem to remember:
About 1 or 1 and a half cup of ground almonds,
Maybe 1/2 or 3/4 cup of honey,
About the same (or a little less) oil,
And about 1/3 cup of flour.
Mix well. Drop biggish spoonfuls on a cookie sheet, flatten, and top each cookie with a whole almond. Cook at about 350 or 375 until the edges are golden brown. Enjoy!
Those really are, in my opinion, the best cookies ever!
When I was at your blog on Friday there were about 25 comments – today hundreds – WOW!
When I started high school my family moved to a ranch outside of the town where I grew up. The house was very small – only two bedrooms. As the oldest and only girl I got to slept in the bunk house, which had not been used for several years. There was an old wasp nest somewhere in the attic or rafters so every day when I got up I had to shake out my clothes or risk getting stung. I often pulled on my pants only to be stung in the thigh. One particularly awful day I forgot to shake out my shoes and was stung 3 or 4 times in the toes. Our family remedy to get rid of the sting was to dab on ammonia (the kind that is used for cleaning). It just became old hat to get up, get dressed and most mornings, go in and get out the ammonia. Luckily I never had a bad reaction.
Wow! Look at all those bee stories! I think that I was about 7 or so, and trying to sneak a sip of my Mom’s soda, which I wasn’t supposed to have. It had been sitting outside on our patio for who knows how long that day, but I took a drink anyway. Sure enough, there was a bee inside the soda can! Even though I didn’t get stung, it still freaked me out to have a bug inside my mouth! So gross…and what a great natural consequence for trying to break the rules.
I thought I missed my opportunity for a bee story.
I have had some issues with reactions to stings so I’m pretty careful. I’m acting as engineer on the dinner train and a bee flies in the window. There was a volunteer in the cab with me. His efforts to protect me from the bee caused him to hit it just hard enough to make it mad, and I got stung.
I took a b*nadryl to minimize the reaction and hoped for the best. Things seemed alright until we needed to stop to pick up some ice. As the conductor was giving me instructions for slowing and stopping, I could feel my hands moving in slow motion. It was very strange. It wasn’t my best and most accurate stop.
The Benadr*l had supposed whatever reaction I was going to have and started to put me to sleep. I called for a backup engineer and found a place to nap.
The shawl looks great!!
That yarn is gorgeous!
My only bee story is… well, it’s about my brother, not me, and it’s about wasps, not bees. But anyway, when my brother was about 12 years old, he and his best friend decided that it would be a brilliant idea to throw rocks at a wasps’ nest to try to knock it off the eaves of the friend’s house. And they were in fact successful in removing the nest, without even breaking any windows or doing damage to the house. However, they didn’t really think about the fact that they’d be damaging the nest, and the wasps wouldn’t be particularly happy – or perhaps my brother’s “friend” was aware of this, but was also aware that he could run much faster than my brother! I don’t think the friend got stung at all, but my brother got 22 stings and had to go to the hospital. He doesn’t throw rocks at bees anymore!
I only remember one bee sting. I was in grade school, at recess, running around, probably playing tag. I happened to be running around the bushes on a little bit of green that edged the Church parking lot – aka – our playground. Since I was on the Church side, I had to be 12 or 13.
Anyway… that bee didn’t want to sting me – it was probably trying to avoide this large person running toward it… We both lost because I just ran right into it! π A little bit of TLC from the school nurse, as well as a baking soda poultice fixed me right up.
I was happy to know that, even though a bee sting meant an emergency room visit for my brother, it didn’t much bother me – except to leave a half dollar size welt for a day or two.
Oh, I have a bee story. When I was young (probably about 7) we were visiting family friends and the boys decided they wanted to show my brother and I some scary place in the woods (I think they said it was some sort of graveyard). So we all tromped into the woods and found ourselves walking single file down a narrow path. I was second, behind the oldest boy who was leading the way. A fair ways in, he stepped on a hive. We were swarmed by angry bees and it took so long for our screams to be understood by everyone behind us before they figured out they should turn around and RUN! We were stung many times, I don’t even know how many, but everywhere. There was blood dribbling down my chin because I’d been stung in my mouth. I don’t remember much about the aftermath, except that I had to be treated with antihistamines any time I got stung after that. It’s been a long time now since I’ve been stung (I tend to be very careful around them now), but I always wonder if I’d still have a reaction. I keep forgetting to keep those antihistamines around, just in case!
The yarn really is beautiful!
My strange bee story has nothing to do with actual flying bees – more, its the explanation of why my blog has a bee on it, and why my name is Hyvetyrant.
My name is Melissa. Look up Melissa in almost any baby name book and you will find the meaning “honey bee” – “melis” is eviedntly “honey” in Greek, even – since the first Melissa gave honey to the Greeks. However, a couple of the sources out there will tell you that Melissa means “Queen Bee”. The first baby name source I checked (when I was about 6) told me that, and I’ve been facinated with it ever since. When I was about 10, I needed a shield. My shield had a bee with a crown above it.
Move forward a few years, to my Quake-playing time, and I got _very_ tired of not having a good name. (My competitors were Gimbal, Infinator, Bengeance… I mean really – how does “Mel” compare?) So, in a fit of creativity, I thought about it, and decided that it was only stretching things a little bit to call a Queen Bee a Hive Tyrant (and, since I manage people as well, and am known as not one to cross, “Tyrant” was pretty appropriate).
From there, its only a short jump in Quake-speak to Hyvetyrant. And, that’s been my username all over for the last 10 years or so… and for the last 3, the name of my blog. Hyvetyrant Knits (now Hyvetyrant Talks)
I guess this would be more of a “rememdy” than bee tale….
Some years ago (’69-70) when I lived in Kentucky for a couple years, #3 son got several times in a couple day’s time, the worst of which was on the back of his head. No place there for it to swell, so all the swelling was on his face. The swelling was the size of a large grapefruit, eyes swollen shut, etc.
There I was stuck 20+ miles from the nearest town of any size, no vehicle and in a total panic. Hadn’t been there long and didn’t know anyone.
Elderly southern lady next door came over to see what all the screaming was about. As soon as she realized what had happened, she grabbed him up and ran home with him. His brothers and I all ran after her in super panic by this time.
She grabbed a couple tobacco leaves (fields of it all around us), wet it and slapped it on the site of the latest sting. Wasn’t but a few minutes later and all the swelling was gone and he was just fine.
I’ve kept a pak of tobacco in the freezer ever since (and in all the first aid kits). It’s been just as effective on wasp stings, scorpion stings, etc ever since.
Not the most pleasant thought of how to deal with a sting, but it’s certainly been effective for us for almost 40 years now.
ah, a bee story. when i was a child, my family spent a couple of weeks at lake manzanita during the summer. i was wading in the lake and stepping on the rocks. i stepped on a BIG, FAT BUMBLEBEE! yep, he was dead but i got a very nice stinger in my instep! and yes, it hurt. that was the end of my wading days at lake manzanita.
Last May I took a walk on Torrey Pines Beach in San Diego. I did not notice that there were many bees on the sand until I felt a piercing burn on my left big toe. There she was dangling by her stinger. My first time and it hurt, even the saltwater would not ease the pain. But this is not the whole story, the spot got infected and I had to go to work in my flipflops. So, after it really looked dangerously swollen, finally I decided to visit Urgent Care. The male nurse (big, muscular and very handsome) told me I should get a tetanus shot. A needle? Oh, I almost started to cry. He just shook his head and with a smirk said, it is like a bee sting, and you survived that, didn’t you…. How embarrassing!
My boys (ages 6 and 4) both recently experienced their first bee stings. They are very different but (thankfully get along great) and their reactions to their stings were perfectly in line with their personalities.
The younger was stung first. He screeched twice, shot across the yard like an arrow, stopped, looked at his leg, brushed the stinger out, and kept playing
The older was stung a few days later. He screamed and cried hysterically for about 15 minutes.
Love those little guys!
We had a pool in the backyard when I was growing up. The summer I was 13, I was swimming the day away one week, and stepped on one bee for each foot! Yikes! That was the first (and last) bee stings I’ve gotten, and not because I was messing with bees. They just so happened to be underfoot!
Here is my Bee Story. Our first house was an old farmhouse at the edge of town. The land had all been divided up for other houses and our property was 55′ by 350′ and there was a shed back about 300′ from the house where we kept the lawn mower. We had not had to cut the grass for quite some time due to lack of rain but the time had come to mow and I went to the shed and opened the doors. Quite a shock awaited me as a swarm of bees came flying out into my big head of curly hair and into my shirt. In a panic to get the bees out of my hair and shirt I started to run back to the house, calling for my husband, shaking my hair and ripping off my shirt. I’m sure he thought it was his lucky day…Me? I was happy with only a couple of bee stings!!!
AH! Late to the party, again. (But luckily, not too late.) Your brain child of the honey colored yarn is spectacular…not that I am surprised.
As little children growing up in Western North Carolina, we regularly played outside barefooted. On one such occasion, when I was about 5, I stepped on a bee’s nest (though I can’t remember what kind of bee it was that nested in the ground…) and by the time I got home, I had 33 bee stings on my feet and legs.
This is how we learned I am allergic to bee stings.
I have never personally been stung but my sister did land on a bee when she was about 7 or so, killed the bee and got stung in the process. I am convinced that I have never been stung because my name means BEE in Hebrew. (My kids have never been stung either although 3 of their friends received multiple stings all at the same time)….
I love love love the shawl and the beautiful yarn! All the bee stories are fun too.
My sophmore year of high school my family was moving to a new town. I was a total band geek and was really excited to move to a town with a marching band. Marching camp started about a week before we were actually moving so one of my Mom’s friends said I could stay at her house during camp. My 2nd day of camp I was standing at attention and a bee landed on my hand. I tend to swell up a lot with bee stings but we were at attention and I was trying to make a good impression so I just stood there while it stung me. Immediately my hand started to swell. The band teacher told me to go get some benadryl from a local store and take a couple hours off. I tend to be sensitive to medication and I took too much benedryl. It made me super tired and I ended up passed out at my Mom’s friends house. Apparently the band teacher had tried to call her house to check on me but I didn’t answer so he called my Mom and she tried to call a bunch of times. Finally around 8 pm she called her friend at work and she rushed home home breathless and worried to check on me. I learned only to take benadryl when I have hours I can devote to sleep π
I don’t really have a good bee story – most of my stings have come from wasps. A friend of my mom’s keeps bees, so I did have the opportunity once to go work the hives with her. It was interesting. My job was to pry the supers apart when they were stuck together with wax.
Good God, Woman! Did you see my post on the VERY SAME DAY as this one??? And it’s doubly weird because I wrote it on Thursday and set it to post Friday because we were out of town and Friday is Fiberlicious day. You. Me. I’m doing that fingers-waving-between-our-eyes gesture thingy right now.
This match of yarn to pattern is fantastic!
I have a bee memory, rather than a bee story:
My uncle, a thin stooped gentle man, kept bees for years. I never saw the hives personally, although I might have seen a picture of them, because I do have a hazy idealized memory of white wooden hives in his sun-splashed English garden. However, I do vividly remember eating the honey as a child, my grandmother always had a pot and occasionally a jar would find its way to my father. It was spectacular: a thick opaque golden paste that tasted of concentrated summer.
Alas, he no longer keeps bees. Age and the shortage of bees (it is all true – the bees are disappearing) meant that he stopped beekeeping a couple of years ago.
I’d like to say that I have a funny bee story, but there’s nothing funny about bees. I may giggle a bit, but it’s only because I’m a mean & horrible sister. Our brother went through a bee attraction period for one summer. If there was a bee, he’d get stung. He bit into an apple at the exact spot where a bee had landed. The next week, he stepped on a bee in someone’s backyard. Etc, etc, etc for that entire summer.
And no joke, I had a dream about that yarn last night. I woke up wanting honey on anything!
I was stung for the first time while visiting my aunt and uncle, and I felt so lucky because we got to go to the country club and swim in the pool! But at rest break I was walking by the diving board and felt a sting in the bottom of my foot– the arch of my foot, to be exact, and I turned my foot over and had to pull the bee out! I was only 8 or 9 at the time, but I remember it vividly! It would be good to have a nice bee knit to soften the memory π
Reading the post about itchy beestings reminded me of my bee story. I was in high school, in french class. My year was the last year of beinb in a 70’s era high school with cinderblock walls and windows on sliders.
It was a hot day and I had my hand under my desk to scratch my kee and ZINGO! stung by a bee I trapped under my desk. I jumped clear out of my chair, I was so surprised. And the the itched in the worse way. I scratched and scratched and scratched it. As a result I have a scar that looks like a daisy, about the size of a pencil eraser. It’s a cute scar but anyone I show it to is always surprised to hear its from a bee sting!
At first I didn’t think I had a bee story, until I remembered my one and only time being stung. I was quite young, probably about seven, and was typing on the old typewriter in the office of our old house. I was wearing a skirt and I got stung right on the back of the knee area- which is really one of the most painful spots to get stung, it’s right up there with the armpit. Anyhoo I totally thought I was going to die and my poor father had to console me all afternoon and then I had trouble walking because the bite swelled up so I couldn’t bend my knee. Overall, very bad experience and I was very scared of the office. That’s my bee story.
Good knittings on the shawl, it looks gorgeous thus far!
i dont have a bee story, so how about some trivia! surely that will count! did you know that bees die after they sting you but wasps dont, they just attack and attack! also, bees are stripey! wasps arent! oh and that there is only one queen bee per beehive area! LOL π
Hello! When I was about 10 years old, I ran to the mailbox upon hearing the mail truck crawling towards our house. I was hoping to receive a letter from one of my many international pen-pals.(Yes, I loved letter writing and hearing about India, Austria, Ireland… etc). We would exchange coins, stamps, movie/music photos and of course talk about what school was like, what music and books they liked…. OK, the bee part- I ran to the mailbox and was stung on my bottom by a mad bee. Maye he was waiting for his mail? Anyways, no penpal letters were in the box and I ran to the house crying. My mom extracted the pesky stinger and I had trouble sitting for quite some time.
When I was 6, I decided that it would be a good idea to throw rocks into a flower bush. It was hot, I was bored, and I was 6, what else can I say? A very angry bee buzzed out flew about by face and stung me right underneath my left eye. It was excrutiating to have my mother get the stinger out (accidentally pulling eyelashes) while saying, “why bother the bees? Why bother the bees?” Every time I see bees now, I think, “why bother the bees?”
a bee story…. ten years or so ago, i was out in my outdoor pottery studio trying to get stuff done before going out. i had been having a bad day and wasn’t really “in the moment”, just trying to hurry up and not enjoying what i was doing. all of a sudden i get hit the head with a sledge hammer, or at least that’s what it felt like!! right in my ‘third eye’ !! i didn’t know that the hell had happened. after recovering for a few minutes i realized i’d gotten stung! i got myself together and realized that i’d been so out of it that day and i needed to get my shit together and that’s what the sting was — a wakeup call.
For something completely different: honey-scented perfume oils. I recommend Queen of Sheba (honey and almonds) and O (amber, honey and a touch of vanilla) from Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab.
My classic bee story:
As a child I knew a lot of words, but I often got a bit mixed up . . . One day, when I was about three, I was out playing in the backyard. Somehow I was picking flowers and tried to catch a “pretty” bee. Of course, I got stung, and came screaming and crying to my mother, holding out my quickly-swelling finger. When she asked what was wrong, I looked up and told her “Mommy, a ladybug bit me!”
It’s been a joke in our family ever since π
My mother goes to Mexico every summer. The day she returned I thought I heard them arrive from the airport. I looked out the bedroom and noticed the window without a screen had been opened. As I peered out, I thought I stepped on a needle. Jumping around the realization quickly set in that I had stepped on a now dead smashed bee and the stinger was stuck in my foot!
When my mother saw me, she thought I was crying tears of joy!
The yarn is gorjus! Your inspiration and Tina’s genius combined to create a real beauty.
My Bee Story – When I was a young mother of three children, I had a bit of a hot temper at times. My husband did little to help with the children, although he did get up and trot to work each day. There were times when I thought I might just fall headfirst into a huge pile of laundry and never resurface. We also lived in a large house in which our our bedroom was once part of the large attic. In the summer, it got very hot in that room. Each night I would awake with welts from the heat and spend the rest of the night on the living room floor where a cool breeze swept through the opened door. One night, when I was particularly tired, I awoke once again covered with hives. As I was leaving the bedroom, my husband asked where I was going. Feeling aggravated that he did not already know the answer to that question, I turned in the doorway, fully intent on letting him know I was irritated, hot, tired, and that it was ALL HIS FAULT! Just about the time I got worked up, I put my hand on the door frame and got a hard sting on my palm. That was his fault too . . . but it put a stop to my mean words. Looking back, I had it coming for blaming someone else for my misery.
Though always a little wary of bees, growing up in the midst of an apple orchard, I also knew how important they are. One of my happy childhood memories was of going with my dad to the “Bee lady” (whose hives were in the orchards) to get pollen for our bees. Of course, the blossoms had pollen, but they must have used other pollen for cross polination? I don’t know. I just know we always came home with a wonderful jar of honey too!
I was on vacation this weekend in beautiful Eureka Springs, AK. I was taking pictures of the most amazing flowers, and I thought about your blog! I took a great picture of a bumble bee on a sunflower. You can find it on my blog! I don’t know if I would have ever snapped that picture, had I never visited your blog and enjoyed your awesome pictures!
my favorite bee story…. one year, my friend and I planted a huge bucket of flower seeds – wildflowers, sunflowers and all sorts of flowers. a few months later I returned to her ranch (in Camp Verde, AZ) and found out that the ranch hand had set up bee boxes and was gonna make honey from the bees – and our flowers. It was so cool watching the bees swarming around the boxes and our flowers…and even more cool than that was the jar of honey I got for Christmas that year. It was so yummy – and so special.
I will join the bee-fest though I don’t have much exciting to say; but I guess the contest is not about quality! Here’s three short bee things and one about honey:
1)I have generally treated bees with respect and they me, so I have only been stung once; a bee landed behind my knee when I was on the diving board ready to jump in the pool, and I didn’t realize it. Misinterpreting my friends’ shouts and waves, I did a fantastic cannonball, and was stung in mid-air. Good way to swallow a lot of water, yelling as you hit it.
2) My daughter has a knack for finding the queen bee in a hive.
3) I just posted a rather cool picture of a bee on beesbalm (“Hence The Name”, http://hitherandyarn.wordpress.com/2007/07/12/hence-the-name/)
4) Lastly, about honey: this is just a cute story but not about honey as a thing itself. My toddler was a great talker but certain words were hard for her at first. “Grandma Sharon”, my mom, became “Gumma Sherna”. But my mother-in-law, Helen, became “Gumma Honey”. Why? Because she heard Grandpa calling Grandma “Honey” all the time! She was Grandma Honey for years! OK, that’s my favorite honey story.
I was browsing your blog after googling socks that rock and came upon your bee story. I just had to share mine with you. I have 6 kids and we had gone out to dinner when they were little….they are all adults now and I have soon to be 10 grandchildren…….anyway back to the bee.
I have been known to bribery to get my kids to cooperate with me SO I promised any of them that would finish their dinners (and become a member of the clean plate club) that I would buy them Bubble Yum……..that super sweet, full of sugar gum that my kids would have sold their souls for……….Well, most of them did finish their dinners to my liking so I purchased several packs of Bubble Yum as their reward. As we were all chewing and I was demonstrating my bubble blowing expertise a bee flew up my right nostril! I don’t know how many times it stung me but I smashed it until the buzzing stopped but it did not come out of my nose. Needless to say that this incident was followed by an ER visit where the doc had to use what looked like foot long “pliers” to remove the remains of the bee from my very swollen nose. I have never had pain such as this before or since and I delivered all 6 of my babies sans anesthesia! The swelling took several days to go down and I looked like I had been in a heavyweight boxing match. I swear I have stretch marks from the event. The only good thing to come from this story are my children’s renditions of the event. We have had many laughs about my misfortune …..yes I can even laugh about it now!
And to top it off my youngest daughter has her PHD in entomology and she works with bees and she credits this event with her interest in the little stingers!
My husband and I recently moved to a place where blackberries grow like weeds. It was fun to munch away while walking in the park or trekking down the trail. However humans are not the only ones to enjoy the fruit. Last August I got stung while we were out berry picking. It was probably a wasp, but I didnβt even see it. Wow! I had forgotten how much that hurts! I donβt think Iβve really done any berry picking since then.
It’s 10:22PM here but I kind of doubt this will post by the deadline your time. Here it is anyway.
Several years ago on a warm summer day when we were preparing to remodel our shingled house, one of the women on the crew of house cleaners I used came running back inside after walking down to the back deck to eat lunch. A large swarm of bees hung on the back wall of the house just below our bedroom windows.
It took us a couple of days to find a beekeeper to come try to collect them while they worked on moving into the wall of the house. If you put your ear to the wall you could hear them buzz.
The keeper, in full bee suit, carried a hive up a 12 foot ladder to a small section of roof where the house angled in next to that wall. Then three days later when the queen had decided she prefered the more delux accomodations of the hive box and moved her kingdom in there, he carried it back down and up the hill 100 yards to his truck.
Our architect wouldn’t come to the house while all this went on as he’d been caught in a swarm as a boy and developed a severe allergy. We never told him our bedroom window had been open all night before we found the swarm, but only one bee flew in.
Hmm, bee story huh?
I only ever remember one run-in with a bee. I was 5 yrs old and living with my grandparents for the school year in North Carolina (my mom spent a few months in the hospital before my sister’s birth). I was out on the playground and felt something on my forehead, so of course I automatically slapped at it. Turned out to be a bee, and the stinger broke off. That thing was there for like a month before it finally worked itself out.
Now I stay as far away as I can. It definitely had an impact on how I react to bees.
My favorite bee story is because of my MIL. She
loves bumble bees. If she finds one too cold in the
spring she will bring it in to the house to warm up.
Once she put one in her purse and took it to a meeting!