I Met the Nettles

For all of Ireland's beautiful country side, who would have known it contains something called nettles? Now I know all to well!

Dawson and I set out across a large field to walk up a beautiful hill across the way. It was picturesque and inviting. We came to a barbed wire fence that was about waist high and I set Dawson on the other side. As I climbed on the top strand of barbed wire in my effort to hop the fence, the strand gave way and I fell back into a growth of these nettles.

I immediately knew something was wrong. It felt like a thousand needles had punctured my arms and hands. I tried to brush the pesky stickers away, but there was nothing there. No, I had been "stung" as it were. Almost immediately large whelps appeared, not unlike those received from the common bee sting.

Fortunately, there was a local Irishman back at the house and he showed me a plant that serves as an antidote to the miserable nettle bite. The whelps are mostly gone, though I have had a tingling sensation for hours.

Now I just have to wait for the barbed wire gash in my leg to heal.

Battle scars, friends, battle scars....