The Mosquito Misadventures at Hollow Tree Nursery

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Dear Reader:

Anne and I planned to go to Hollow Tree Nursery yesterday morning and time it so we would arrive early at Duke’s for the best chicken/barbecue/veggies around.

downloadWhat should have been a leisurely stroll around Lisa’s beautiful nursery turned into a frantic running competition against the most dreaded, lowcountry monster…the maleficent mosquito!


As you see the photos in today’s blog…remember this: For every time we stopped to take a picture…we came away with a minimum of two mosquito bites. So do appreciate the pictures.

The title photo is one of my four camellia bushes that I got yesterday…it is called the “Bonanza.” As I separated it from the other camellia plants in containers… a beautiful butterfly (perhaps a moth?) settled on it and I took the rather blurry photo…because a mosquito was chewing on my hand….down to the bone!

The mosquito was as big as the butterfly on my camellia bloom….Since “the flood” a new breed of swamp monster mosquitoes must have evolved! I feel like I could lasso one if I had a rope.

I ended up with two “Bonanza” camellias, one “Cinnamon Sensation” and one “Jury’s Yellow!”


When we got home…Anne and I plopped the camellias plants down adjacent to the back fence and then decided we liked them right where they were…along the perimeter, instead of in the garden.

(The mosquitoes must have followed us home…because we were getting eaten alive in my back yard too!)

My four camellias “paled” beside Anne’s twelve that she got. She was on a “camellia” mission for sure. By getting a dozen, however, she got about eight more mosquito bites than me….we were running around in circles trying to escape them. As usual we had to cram the camellias in…but we did it. (We also went to Duke’s and packed it in there too!)


Anne had killed so many mosquitoes on her that she had blood stains on her hands and even her vest….“Bloody hell” she cried out…“I think we are in a B-Rated movie called “Mosquito Massacre.” 

Excuse me, if I take a detour here, but Anne’s “bloody hell” expression reminded me of a funny anecdote that I have shared on and off for years, but figure it is time to bring it back again.

Two British golfers were playing together one day. One  golfer was a member of the other golfer’s congregation who was an Episcopal priest. The priest was getting extremely annoyed with his golf partner who screamed out (on every hole) “Bloody hell I missed again” every time he missed a putt.

This had gone on for 17 holes and the priest finally lost it. He admonished his congregational friend for his too earthy expression and asked him to please refrain from yelling it out again on the last hole.

Just as they were about to tee off on the 18th hole, a thunder storm appeared out of no where and a bolt of lightning hit and killed the priest. Before his friend could get over the shock of this event…the dark clouds parted and a booming voice, in a ray of light from heaven, called out “Bloody hell, I missed again.

(Sorry for the little detour…but you gotta love British humor…I love every kind of humor…it makes the world go ’round. )

And now here are some of the ‘two-mosquito bite’ photos from Hollow Tree Nursery!






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So until tomorrow…let’s remember the old African Proverb: “If you think you are too small to make a difference, try sleeping in a closed room with a mosquito.”

“Today is my favorite day”  Winnie the Pooh


I was so proud of the Clemson tigers yesterday….I wasn’t expecting that type of game at all…but it sure was nice to be able to relax and enjoy a football game without having to get a new manicure afterwards!

Libby’s grandchildren are too precious…they sold snow cones yesterday for 50 cents apiece to raise money to help Jackson re-build her house….gotta love little children…their hearts are hearts of action.


Here is the link to Jackson’s  GoGundMe page if you would like to help out:

*Thank you goes out to several of you blog readers who have made a donation to this fund….Jackson is completely overwhelmed by the number of people helping her and feels beyond humbled by it all.

About Becky Dingle

I was born a Tarheel but ended up a Sandlapper. My grandparents were cotton farmers in Laurens, South Carolina and it was in my grandmother’s house that my love of storytelling began beside an old Franklin stove. When I graduated from Laurens High School, I attended Erskine College (Due West of what?) and would later get my Masters Degree in Education/Social Studies from Charleston Southern. I am presently an adjunct professor/clinical supervisor at CSU and have also taught at the College of Charleston. For 28 years I taught Social Studies through storytelling. My philosophy matched Rudyard Kipling’s quote: “If history were taught in the form of stories, it would never be forgotten.” Today I still spread this message through workshops and presentations throughout the state. The secret of success in teaching social studies is always in the story. I want to keep learning and being surprised by life…it is the greatest teacher. Like Kermit said, “When you’re green you grow, when you’re ripe you rot.”
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