Bees

How fitting then that we've come full circle with this blog experiment.
As you may recall, it was a year ago I was encouraged to share some of what goes on out here in The Hinterlands; I picked up the gauntlet.
And then to challenge myself further, vowed to post weekly.
Granted, not every entry was brilliant, (some were phoned in and I traveled more than expected therefore taking me away from the keyboard), but all in all I'm rather pleased with this inaugural year.
So it's back again to bees, the story that felled the dominoes and the one I'll end with.
No fretting! There will be regular updates, at least once a month. I won't go totally dark.
But I think unless something remarkable occurs on which to report, stories are going to get a bit redundant out here.
Just last week, I harvested some stinging nettles and briefly considered that as an entry before remembering -Oh, been there, done that.

Hi! I know you can see me between these anomalous fuchsia blossoms.

It's a typical spring here in the PNW, those schizophrenic days that can't decide whether to be blue skies and balmy or grey with horizontal rain gusts.
After many decades in this (preferred) climate, I've come to notice the subtle nuances of seasonal change, unlike the very obvious ones of my Midwest upbringing.
Thus, I knew it was time to start thinking about getting the place shaped up.
First order of business was attending to that sad Warré hive sitting forlornly out on Bramble Island staring plaintively at me whenever I caught a glimpse of it out the kitchen window- which was often.
For the better part of a year, I've watched that brand-spankin' new, pristine honey condo deteriorate along with hope.
It was probably just as well none moved in since we had neither supplies nor knowledge of what to do once they did.
Remember we'd missed the deadline to pre-order a bee package from a local business, so instead hoped to attract a natural swarm with old wax and ampules?
That was pretty optimistic (read: stupid) in that you just can't will nature to do something, there's more to it than that.
But I was so confident it would work that everyday for a good month I'd walk over to check on how the new tenants were settling in, only there weren't any. Booo.
I was just about to follow-up on that when I got a call from Stacy at Glory Bee a few days after I returned from the cruise.
I'd forgotten that February, as I was dejectedly hanging up the phone, the gal on the other end offered a reminder call one year hence.
Why sure! Thanks!
Still groggy from a month full of global adventures (and booze), tho' I'd been thinking about what she was about to tell me.
Pony up, sister!
Time to reserve your 2# box-o-bees, Queen included! All for the amazingly low price of $89.95.
Coming up from California, Carniolans or Italians were the 2 choices.
Not knowing one from the other, I had the disembodied voice explain the differences and suggest which would best suit our climate and novice status.
CAM reminded me this "bee thing was all your idea."
And he was a little bent out of shape I'd not done my proper homework to host the colony.
He was right there- all this would fall on me in that they were to arrive the weekend he was in BC on business.
"Bee Weekend" was a HUGE DEAL!
Emails and invoices and flyers and Pandora spots hyping it and told us to either pick up those buzzers by 1pm on Saturday or we'd forfeit to the lucky ones high on the wait list.
Picking them up, oh sure, no prob.
But *installing* them?
You think I'd do a cram session with reading everything I could- not just the books we had, but library, Internet, etc.
But no, I just wrung my hands and quietly freaked out.
I messaged the husband of a HS friend who'd been very encouraging last year being big into bees himself, but it turned out he had a frightful scare with allergies some months ago and had to give up the hobby.
He pretty much reiterated all I'd been told (mostly by CAM)- study up, watch youtube videos, connect with a local association, etc.

I purposely scared CAM wearing this

Derp

The following weeks, I managed to pop into both the small storefront downtown who'd added beekeeping to their chicken operation (mainly geared toward backyard urban projects) as well as the retail store at the warehouse where I'd be collecting my 'package' (a term that makes me snort like a 6th grade girl.) with some basic inquiries and perusing.
Despite their enthusiasm, actual instruction was lost to me.

Eventually, I made the financial leap of purchasing legit gear (only after CAM convinced me the DEVO painting suit I devised to buy at the local home improvement center* wouldn't really do the trick of >protecting< me against stings, cost notwithstanding.)
And in the process discovered local bulk sales of maple syrup and honey at a fraction of what they sold for anywhere else!

CAM purchased a few different types to test

We're told hot dogs are the best bait; might be a problem

The cashier also looked at me like I had 3 heads when I asked about the note on the chalkboard at the entrance instructing us to get our yellow jacket traps tout de suite.
"Everyone in town has those bees and they will eat your good ones.
Go to *Jerry's and hang them up now before you get your package (me: snicker) next month to clear them out."
We *do* have yellow jackets around here in The Sticks, but they usually don't show until the summer.

Still, we followed her dictate, but have yet to actually capture said killers.
All they've caught so far are pine tree buds, rain water and a few strange bugs.
We readied the area where the hive had been placed and cleaned it up as the winter had made it worse for wear.

You can see the old comb in the box above; new rye-starched burlap barrier on to-do list

Sanding, ACV (apple cider vinegar; did I tell you I make my own? No? Well I do, for pennies. Mostly to disinfect the coop and add to the hens' water to keep their ph in check. Bragg's has some nerve charging an arm and a leg for their product containing "the mother".) and lots of sunlight to dry the parts inside and out restored it to some of its original grandeur: I just wanted it to be healthy and attractive to the group.



That sad excuse for a foundation also needed replaced.
Did we truly expect this old thrift store bought pressboard computer desk to support the weight of a growing hive full of insects, comb and honey? Jeesh.
Crap Pits had surrendered many cinder blocks, so why CAM was compelled to purchase others at our favorite store* mystified, but nonetheless, they were necessary.



Perhaps the most righteous and fortuitous happening was finally making contact with what we've named 'Happy Farm'. This is a glorious plot down the road where they clearly know how to manage our wet land that we gooseneck smiling every time we drive by.
Lots of Langstroth hives, sunflower fields, horses, dogs, goats, chickens, sheep, and frequently rotated, unidentified plantings that are verdant, prolific and fecund.
There was a -free plants- sign out front, of which I quickly took advantage.
Brooks is retired and works his piece while Wife, a hobbyist fiber artist, earns a living (for now) as an RN, but is itching to give that up soon.
They're replacing all non-bee attracting plantings, which is how I came to load up the back end of Zippy with tons of day lilies and succulents.
Indeed, bee plants would be great in our tacky garden, but I need something there for now other than dirt and poop.
And I like free.

It was satisfying to talk bees and the 'hood with these like-minded sorts.
I'd been trying to figure out a way to make nice ever since I saw them sporting a large DeFazio yard sign out front- loud and proud- and a ballsy move out here in the Redneck Shire of conservative ignoramuses.
(I'd kept ours behind the fence, defeating the whole purpose of having it in the first place other than to affirm our good politics.)
"Yeah, we've had some vandalism and theft of those over the years."
Admittedly, he'd talk bees ad nauseum and lost me quickly. I also couldn't help but think he felt my beginner status trite and dull, but offered genuinely to help out in any way at any time.
Russians are the type he keeps and says "they aren't very friendly", as if that was even a remote possibility. He went on about localized diseases, parasites, temperatures and a host of other terrors that could do them all in, much to my dismay.
He was very kind and generous and when I handed off a Change of Address magnet I stash extras of in my wallet to let him know I wasn't a complete wacko, but a bonafide neighbor, concurred with my statement that we pretty much kept to ourselves.
He sniffed the air and looked around sagely before sharing he'd catch a wild swarm Monday at the old barn on the tree farm around the bend from us.
CAM was disappointed I'd not availed myself to witness the marvel. After all, I had the gear (tho' I'd soon discover true keepers don't even bother with most of it.)

By that Friday, on the day I was set to collect the new residents, I was as ready as I felt I could be to get those stinkers onto our property.
As an aspiring vegan, I'd justified the bees not so much as exploiting their output, but looking at homing them in good stewardship of the Earth.
Because without those bees, we are ALL in a world of hurt- and that's no exaggeration.
I'll spare you the appendix of references proving said point, because no doubt you're well aware of this urgency of fact, but know it is real and scary and badbadbad.
All I care about right at this very moment is that we're able to get them into that hive where they'll thrive and save the planet.
And eventually give us some damn honey.

To Beeee continued...

Soooo cold...

Save meeeee

Why have you forsaken me so?