Bee-coming Apiarists

Well, it’s official. We’re going to be apiarists. No, it isn’t illegal. Not even immoral. It means we’re going to keep bees. This has been percolating for a very long time, and it was one of those things I rather hoped Zack would talk about forever and never actually do (like getting horses). But if Zack says he will do a thing, he most often follows through, which is usually wonderful but sometimes a little scary. There’s always another project around here. No wonder I never catch up.Well, it’s official. We’re going to be apiarists. No, it isn’t illegal. Not even immoral. It means we’re going to keep bees. This has been percolating for a very long time, and it was one of those things I rather hoped Zack would talk about forever and never actually do (like getting horses). But if Zack says he will do a thing, he most often follows through, which is usually wonderful but sometimes a little scary. There’s always another project around here. No wonder I never catch up.

 Zack’s  grandfather kept bees, and he has wonderful childhood memories of robbing the hives in the heat of the summer, covered with protective gear from head to toe, the smell of the warm honey, insects lighting all over him. (YIKES!) Somehow this was never my idea of heaven. I can’t imagine why. If I had tried with all my might, I don’t think I could ever have conjured up a vision of myself willingly surrounded by hundreds of bees. Well, life is full of surprises.

So I’m nothing if not interested in new experiences. Count me in (as if I had a vote. In my new, unexpected position as Zack’s trusty assistant, helping him with things he still cannot do, I often have little choice in these matters. Besides, I firmly believe that his enthusiastic interest in new things and willingness to try almost anything —even if I have to finish it— are aiding in his recovery). Usually I prefer my new experiences to be exceedingly safe, timid person that I am. But Zack assures me I probably won’t get stung. Gee, that’s reassuring.  For years Zack has talked of having bees. If he hadn’t fallen ill a couple of years ago, I’m certain we would have done this already. More than a few best laid plans were delayed. That happens when one wakes up paralyzed and spends six months in hospitals— and the next year or two relearning how to move.

Zack’s been poring over catalogues of bee keeping supplies. Dwayne, the UPS guy has been wearing a path to our door for the last few weeks with a box of this or that. It’s gotten to the point that if we see him in town, we ask if we can save him a trip. At the moment, there reside in the center of our small living room a bee hive, a super (part of the whole queen/workers/drones system, the trays for the honeycombs, hats, nets, smokers, and gloves. It’s all pretty interesting. (There are special entry and exit parts for the Queen, workers or drones. Sort of like the Hotel California; some of them can check out any time they like — but they can never leave). One of the hats with veil belonged to Zack’s grandfather —pretty special. Zack says he probably wore it as a youngster. Two of the smokers are antiques. Zack’s father brought the old honey extractor from his barn to ours a few months ago, and a couple of old hives.

One of our veterinarians keeps bees, so Zack consulted with him about various resources. He generously offered to pick up our bees when he drives out of town to pick up some additional bees for himself. After all, this probably isn’t something we can bid for on eBay and have Dwayne deliver in his UPS truck —although I didn’t check. Perhaps it’s possible!

 There’ve been bees on this ranch all my life, but they were wild and free, lived where they chose, and didn’t share their honey. They visit my flowers regularly, most noticeably our Texas sage plants. These burst into fragrant, lavender blooms a week or so after a heavy rain. Then they attract so many bees that their combined musical buzzing mimics a small helicopter. During those times, the sage seems alive with bees. There have been various “bee trees” here over the years, sometimes occupied and sometimes not. The last bee domicile of long standing was vacated a couple of years ago for unknown reasons and hit by lightning last year. (It seems to have survived). So far, no occupants have returned. One of the many signs I routered several years ago for placement throughout the ranch reads “Bee Hive Drive” for obvious reasons, and is nailed to that tree.

We expect our new additions next month, and Zack is like a little kid anticipating the holidays.  We must clean and paint the old hives (if they’re worth saving), paint the new one that arrived unfinished, and put everything in place. We donned our gloves and hats —for a trial run of sorts; we wore the stuff to a masquerade party last week. In one of those rare, unexpected, serendipitous coincidences, two other people came dressed as bees. She was the Queen Bee, of course, with crown, and he was the Worker Bee, with hard hat and tool belt. Funny stuff. This Bee/Bee Keeper combo was completely unplanned. So we took a picture to commemorate the occasion.  I guarantee you our new bee keeping attire will never look as clean as it does right now.  The hat and veil Zack wore were those belonging to his grandfather.

Gene Ellis, Ed.D is a Bosque County resident who returned to the family farm after years of living in New Orleans, New York, and Florida. She’s an artist who holds a doctoral degree from New York University and is writing a book about the minor catastrophes of life. Check out Genie’s blog at  http://rusticramblings.wordpress.com/