We're sitting in the garden, drinking beer and watching the sun sink towards the hills while the cousins bounce on the trampoline.
Our husbands are teasing my sister about her wasp sting.
Another wasp starts buzzing around us, dopy and groggy with windfall apples the way they are at this time of year.
I yelp and jump about flapping my arms.
My husband laughs at me.
"It's not going to sting you," he says.
I scowl at him and sit back down, keeping a wary eye on the offending insect.
He reaches for his beer.
Takes a sip....
And spits it back out.
"Aaargh," he says pointing to his mouth.
I look at the spat out beer. A dying, slightly bitten looking wasp is struggling in the froth.
"Aaargh," says my husband again.
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