![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zyzylyThere is a flower garden in the park next to the convent where my spiritual director lives, and I took some pictures while I was waiting for my appointment with her yesterday. Actually, I became so engrossed in picture-taking, I was 10 minutes late for the appointment (after missing it completely the day before and rescheduling).
The flowers were beautiful, and there were bees all over the place. The garden sits up against the back of the zoo, and there were all sorts of interesting sounds to go along with the sights. I sat there for a minute listening, and wished that I could capture the sounds in a photograph.
I seem to have a thing for taking pictures of bees and flowers. Flowers I can understand--they're beautiful, and each one is unique.
Bees are another story. Ok, every bee is unique, but that's not it.
I'm supposedly allergic to bees, so there is certain risk in poking my camera lens in their little faces and saying, "smile". I like to get up as close as I can, and they don't really seem to mind as long as I don't interfere with their business.
It was my mom who told me that I was allergic. As the story goes, I was stung when I was about 4 or 5, and ended up being rushed to the hospital near death. I don't remember any of it, and the story has mutated over the years, as have so many of our family stories. The last time she told it , the bee had morphed into a snake. I used to carry a bee sting kit with me, but gave it up a few years ago after airplanes started flying into buildings.
My mom said something else interesting the other night. We were talking about how much my wife's family likes me (they really do). She told me she remembered how kind they were to me the time Arlina left me for a while and moved back home. Yes, except that Arlina never left. I'm not sure where that one came from. Maybe beesnake land.
The flowers were beautiful, and there were bees all over the place. The garden sits up against the back of the zoo, and there were all sorts of interesting sounds to go along with the sights. I sat there for a minute listening, and wished that I could capture the sounds in a photograph.
I seem to have a thing for taking pictures of bees and flowers. Flowers I can understand--they're beautiful, and each one is unique.
Bees are another story. Ok, every bee is unique, but that's not it.
I'm supposedly allergic to bees, so there is certain risk in poking my camera lens in their little faces and saying, "smile". I like to get up as close as I can, and they don't really seem to mind as long as I don't interfere with their business.
It was my mom who told me that I was allergic. As the story goes, I was stung when I was about 4 or 5, and ended up being rushed to the hospital near death. I don't remember any of it, and the story has mutated over the years, as have so many of our family stories. The last time she told it , the bee had morphed into a snake. I used to carry a bee sting kit with me, but gave it up a few years ago after airplanes started flying into buildings.
My mom said something else interesting the other night. We were talking about how much my wife's family likes me (they really do). She told me she remembered how kind they were to me the time Arlina left me for a while and moved back home. Yes, except that Arlina never left. I'm not sure where that one came from. Maybe beesnake land.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-06-13 02:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-06-13 02:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-06-14 12:04 am (UTC)That's funny, (ha ha and wierd) about your mom's errant memory...bet that was a surprise. Good thing it got cleared up!
no subject
Date: 2003-06-14 02:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-06-14 01:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-06-14 02:05 pm (UTC)I added you back. God Bless!