Tuesday 30 August 2005
A.M.

It was almost dark when I opened the gate across from our driveway and pushed the wheelbarrow over to the manure pile. I was about to add the last essential to the new flowerbed.

Something buzzed around my neck as I dug the shovel into the pile of black nutrient, but I ignored it while filling the wheelbarrow only halfway, so I could still manipulate it without it tipping over. I headed for the gate again just as Scott came up behind me on the little tractor. He was dragging the yard so that water from the next rain would run off where he wanted it to. He stopped to ask me to turn the shovel blade, but before I could get to it, the pup snapped at the air next to my knee and there was a burning sensation. I shrieked in shrill surprise.

"Did Sara bite you?" Scott asked.
"No, something stung me," I said, just as there was another hot jolt behind my knee, "and it must be in my pant leg!"

Out in the farmyard, I quickly kicked off my shoes and shucked my jeans. After turning the pant legs inside-out to determine there were no more wasps or hornets or whatever I had disturbed at the manure pile, I put my jeans back on. But not before thinking that not only is it a good thing to always wear clean underwear, but this was one time I was glad I'd been wearing *gauch, period!

* Saskatchewanese for women's panties or men's undershorts