​Spring. ​An innocent season filled with possibilities blended with the scent of renewal. ​My favorite time. ​

Stepping onto my backyard patio, I ​started washing away ​winter’s leaves and twigs with the garden hose.

As I sprayed, I noticed ​a few​ wasps hovering around the patio light​.

They didn’t seem angry, and feeling no animosity toward them, I continued the patio washing.

The sun shone on a few flower buds, the birds chirped​ and the wasps buzzed. All seemed right in the world.

Then it happened — a surprise attack, and an unnecessary one. Without any provoking ​from me, one crazed wasp, whom I nicknamed “Donald,” decided I was the enemy and declared war.

He was a fat wasp that swooped down, buzzing past my head like a fighter pilot.

I stood still, hoping he would send a tweet instead, “Stay away. My stinger is bigger than yours and it works.”

Then, seeing that I was no threat, he would logically fly off.

Donald buzzed by again, so I immediately ​pumped the air with my fists of fire and fury swatting at him.

Oh, I made a gallant stand, but​ Donald, this venomous villain, stung my left cheek near the jaw.​ ​

I am allergic to many things, but thankfully not an insect sting​, yet the pain — ​whoa!

A combo of an ice pack and some extra strength Tylenol eased my swollen, itchy red badge of courage.

During the recovery phase of planning my counter-attack, I read that ​a ​wasp​ stings but ​doesn’t die afterward. With bees, the venom bag is ripped from the abdomen when it stings, ​killing the insect​.

After a wasp stings, it goes on its merry way back to ​spreading pollen ​and other wasp duties.

A friend suggested I leave the​m alone, but I had a blood-thirst for revenge.

The next day ​I attacked ​their nest ​ at dawn — OK, it was 9:30 a.m., but the idea was the same. I spray foamed ​it with a special insecticide for wasps.

I’m certain Donald’s photo was on the can’s label with a menacing sneer.

Spraying the foam like a machine gun,​ I showed no mercy, not even to the wasps​ that didn’t attack me.​

When the fog of war had lifted, ​I saw Donald’s fat wasp carcass​ among the other​ wasps’ bodies​ scattered​ on​ my clean patio​.

Yes, victory is sweet, because there was no way I was going to turn the other cheek.

Val Valdez is a Herald correspondent.

(0) comments

Welcome to the discussion.

Keep it Clean. Please avoid obscene, vulgar, lewd, racist or sexually-oriented language.
PLEASE TURN OFF YOUR CAPS LOCK.
Don't Threaten. Threats of harming another person will not be tolerated.
Be Truthful. Don't knowingly lie about anyone or anything.
Be Nice. No racism, sexism or any sort of -ism that is degrading to another person.
Be Proactive. Use the 'Report' link on each comment to let us know of abusive posts.
Share with Us. We'd love to hear eyewitness accounts, the history behind an article.