Japanese Hogweed
My friend George Probst phoned a couple of days ago and left a message stating that the large raspberry patch he'd let me have, if I cared for it, was in need of weeding. Although I wasn't feeling very well; been fighting some kind of virus that has me coughing so hard, my sides ache, I reluctantly grabbed my gloves and mosquito netting and hiked up and over Green Mountain to his place about a mile away. If the raspberry patch looked the same as the last time I went through it, weeding and trying to get the canes straightened out after the heavy snows, it was going to be a tough job. If I'd known just how tough a job it was going to be and the condition I would later be in, I would have left it for a little while longer, at least until I was feeling a little better.
When I arrived at George's place, since it was quite early in the morning and I didn't want to disturb him and Margaret, I went straight to the raspberry patch and before I could even get the mosquito netting in place, I was surrounded by a cloud of black flies that persistently dived at my face like Japanese Kamikaze dive bombers. The raspberry bushes had managed to straighten out somewhat but they were infiltrated by a host of Japanese hogweed, which were about shoulder high. Between the black flies and the hogweed, I felt like I was in a Iwo Jima war zone. Realizing I would most likely take a beating, I tightened up the mosquito netting, put on my gloves, then got on my hands and knees and crawled into the raspberry bushes; I was ready for combat and if I went down, I was determined to go down fighting.
Squadrons of black flies clustered about my head, as my hands went into a rampage; choking, throttling, yanking and snapping the Japanese hogweed, handful after handful! I tried not to think about the damage, which was being inflicted to my head and neck by the black flies, which somehow managed to infiltrate the mosquito netting. There were times when I thought about surrendering, throwing in the white towel but I felt like a true warrior; I wasn't going to give in. Once in awhile, like King Kong, I stood amidst the raspberry bushes and Japanese hogweed and struck out at the tenacious black devils that relentlessly attacked me. I slapped the sides of my head so smartly, my ears rang and once delivered an uppercut to my chin so hard; the blow lifted me about 6" off the ground. Besides infuriating the little black bastards, the blows to my head must have loosened all the snot in my nose because gobs of it began oozing out of my nostrils and collecting in the mosquito netting; instead of frothing at the mouth like a mad dog, I was frothing at the nose. Of course, why should the discomfort stop there; I began hacking and coughing up gobs of clear phlegm too. And if that wasn't difficult enough; Mr. Happy, all safely zippered away in my fly decided he needed to take a pee. But hey, I'm not stupid; even though he may have sprayed down many of the winged pests; I wasn't about to bring the big gun into action. Before retreating, honking my nose one last time, I surveyed the battle ground. The Japanese hogweed, although I knew they would grow back again with a vengeance, had definitely lost the battle; there were mounds of them like dead soldiers heaped together awaiting burial. I may have won that battle but I knew, especially when I took off my hat and mosquito netting as I walked back home, a strong wind blowing the black flies away and saw the inside of my hat ringed with blood; I'd taken some serious hits.
I must be allergic to the black flies' bites because when I arrived home and looked in the mirror, my face definitely had the appearance of a war zone; each bite was vibrant red and slightly swollen. Sarah insisted that I take a pill to combat the swelling but this morning, when I again looked in the mirror, my whole face was swollen so badly, my right eye was partially shut. Let me tell you, I don't feel like too much of a warrior this morning; my face, ears, throat and neck stings, throbs and itches so much, I don't know if I should scratch myself to pieces or just give myself one hell of a good knock out punch.
So much for my big day out; going to the Woodstock Farmer's Market. It's not so much that I look like Frankenstein at the moment and might scare customers away from Sarah's baking, I'm just feeling too uncomfortable - kinda twitchy. I've lathered my face up with some ointment the doctor prescribed me last summer for a spider bite to hopefully draw out the poison from the black flies but so far as I can tell, it's not doing much good. Well, if the bites are anything like the ones I've suffered previously, they seem to take about a week to heal; guess I'll just have to tough it out until then. In the mean time, since I don't have any magical cure for the bites; I believe I'll just kick back and enjoy a few of my home brews - cheers - eh!
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