Yesterday I sat quietly at the College of the Atlantic community garden making a watercolor of this garlic scape as Katie tended her plants. I was surprised when a drunken kamikazee bumblebee flew onto my eyebrow and stung me there. After yelling, frantically slapping myself in the face, and hopping up and down, I ran away to the other side of the garden. I mean, my eyebrows are big enough as it is. While we were talking, the same bee flew over to us and landed on Kate. It appeared to be inexorably drawn to us, much the same as Gollum is drawn to the One Ring in the Lord of the Rings. She bravely smacked it with an open palm, and it fell down into the grass dead. "Great!" I thought. My joy was short lived, however, as the bee turned out to be merely stunned. It revived dazedly, started fluttering about, and then flew up Katie's pant leg and stung her! " Okay, bee, all bets are off!" I said, secretly relieved that the bee had gone for Kate instead of me. Katie walloped the bee again, and this time I squished it with a rock when it fell into the grass. "Pity?" I can hear a voice in my head. "It was Pity that stayed his hand!" That so Gandalf? Maybe if I was a little more pitiless I wouldn't have this swollen eyebrow right now.