Wasps, Bees, and Wasps

It is the time of year when wasps build their nests, and this reminded me of several encounters with winged stinging things over the years. The earliest occurred when our daughter was a mere toddler. I noticed a small wasp nest on the underside of our neighbours' picnic table at toddler head height. I thought I could remove a hazard and create an interesting exhibit by clapping a large jar over the nest and then scraping it off. I had the lid ready to hand. The first part of the operation went smoothly: I slipped the jar over the nest without disturbing it. Then I tried to scrape it off the table. This is where matters became serious: the nest was firmly, solidly anchored and wouldn't come off. Worse, I had clearly disturbed the inhabitants who poured out of their home, buzzing furiously. As I held the jar, hesitating indecisively, wasp scouts began to return to base. They found their way impeded by an adamantine sphere. Moments later, they found something much softer attached to that mysterious obstruction, and ventured on an experiment: I was stung, more or less simultaneously, in the corner of my mouth, the inside edge of my right eye, and up my left nostril. I dropped the jar and ran around the picnic table several times, to build up speed I suppose, and then rocketed across the yard homeward. By the time I reached the kitchen, my face was already unrecognizable. Joanne was very sympathetic.

The bees were more formidable opponents. Noticing a bee busy around the vent for her mother's air exchanger, Joanne asked me to pick up a suitable remedy. I returned with the usual magic foam and we gave the vent a liberal spray. The next day she went to check the filter box to clean out the casualties. The box was set in a closet, so Joanne had to mount a ladder to reach it. Her mother helpfully steadies the ladder. The lid of the box was, naturally enough, air tight and complicated to remove--or replace. As it popped open, Joanne became aware of a loud buzzing and in a flash understood the situation. She struggled to replace the lid, but bees were already flooding out. She abandoned the lid, and tried to flee, but her mother, bracing the ladder, was in her way. A confused struggle followed, which ended with the bees on one side of the door and Joanne and her mother on the other. "I think I may have got a sting!" said Joanne's mother plaintively. In fact, she had three. Joanne had seventeen. I was very sympathetic.

What had happened, of course, was that the bees quite naturally avoided the vent, which was full of dangerous foam, and simply waited for the opportunity to exit by another route. They were alive and full of fight. We returned the next day, armed with flying insect spray, and settled their hash. We then found that a full yard of the 12-inch duct was filled with comb. I scraped it out and then thought I would show the children its interesting structure. While I was fetching them, the comb disappeared! I was astonished, but there it was--gone! Then, after some loud retching from the dog, it reappeared. The dog in question, Abby, was famous for trying to eat almost anything--twist ties, ballpoint pens, bottlecaps. Apparently, an insecticide-soaked bees nest was the limit.

Finally, there was the job I did on the eaves of the back of the house. I set up scaffolding for this, because it was a fairly extensive job. I was setting up the third level of framing--the one rising up out of the picture to the left--when I jarred the wall of the house slightly. From the depths of the eaves a furious buzzing emerged, and as I strained to slip the leg of the frame over the pin, a wasp emerged from the open cavity and bounced off my cheek. I was more decisive this time: I flung the frame of scaffolding away from me, and leaped for my life as more and more wasps surged out of the eaves. I waited until darkness fell and the wasps were fast asleep, and then I returned, armed. The rest of the job proceeded without incident. Yesterday Joanne pointed out what is either an old, abandoned wasp next or a nascent one up under the garage rafters. We need a cunning plan...

Personal Vise

This is my old drill press, a Delta from about 26 years ago. I've long schemed about adding a cutting fluid dispenser, and I finally set about it in the simplest way imaginable. First, I screwed a gas tank from a lawnmower to the top of the drive belt cover. Then I ran some fuel line to a shut-off valve, and from there a longer piece descended to the work area. I fitted a tapered nozzle from a blowgun to the end. Then I ran a piece of malleable lashing wire along the last six inches and wrapped it in silicon tape. Finally, I braced the hose to the light ring mounted above the chuck. This allowed me to aim the nozzle with some degree of control. Repairing the lawn tractor's trailer gave me the chance to use it. I had to fit a longer axle for the new wheels. You can see a piece of 5/8 round stock in the cross slide vise. I ground a small area flat, pinged it with the centre punch, turned on the cutting fluid, and presto! The bit went through like a hot knife through butter! Dad would have had such fun with this....


I picked up the vise on sale at Princess Auto, and at first I was very disappointed. It was so stiff it seemed to be seized. However, I loosened the guides and eventually I persuaded it to work quite smoothly. I have to say, the light (also from PA) is also a great addition.

Garage

Winter began on October 24 with a second heavy snowfall on the 27th. This put a stop to our garage repairs, but we've made some progress since then. We have now finished tearing off the old wood fiber tiles and sheathing the walls with fresh plywood. Now we'll add Tyvek, flashing, corner boards, window trim--and then cedar shingles.

The soffit boards look dreadful but are actually quite sound. We will give them a nice coat of paint when we reach that stage. I am still getting used to the novelty of a dry garage!