You Gotta Envision Beauty, and then It Happens

Don’t you think I’d look awesome driving this truck, Reader? And can’t you already envision the words “TwoHoneys Bee Co” nicely hand painted on the door? And maybe “Call Lizzzzzzzz!”

Ford E3
Ford E3, side view

Right now, I’d rather dream about this truck than all the wet bees we installed in a downpour yesterday. Seriously…bees do not love rain and thunderstorms. And although my installation schedule is tight, I have to wonder if I shouldn’t have waited to introduce the bees…both for the bees’ sake and for the sake of those new beekeepers who may be starting off their adventures on a sour note. Then again, if they can handle yesterday’s adventures with a positive attitude—and they did—then they’ve already proven they’re cut out for the worst of it.

I’ll check on the wettest of yesterday’s group today to see that they’re flying and getting to know their new neighborhoods. This morning’s forecast is better, and I’ll be introducing 5 more hives to their new homes through early afternoon.

I’ll write more about all the installations once they’re complete. But right away, I have to thank Nicola Mason for being such a Godsend and for sticking with me and the bees under the worst possible circumstances yesterday. I mean to tell you, she was terrific and composed.

Oh. And this is what the interior of that truck looks like right now. If it becomes the future beemobile, we’re gonna have to do a little more work. I ain’t sitting on that seat. (But I’d love to shift that thing, and I can already sort of feel my feet working the clutch.)

Ford E3 interior


Wet Bees

I know I shouldn’t actually complain about the weather. And I’ve lately been wondering what my own little personal role is in this incessant rain. For instance, should I be praying more? Riding my bicycle more and driving my SUV less? Does this rain have something to do with my use of oil and gas? Should I become a vegetarian? Should I simply practice the idea of acceptance rather than getting all twisted up about this neverending daily crapping effing rain? So, when I’m tempted to complain about the weather, I try to look at my part.

But, I swear, I have never seen anything like this.

And the bees are out there just hunkered down. I watch as trees bloom and then stop their blooming, and the bees can’t even get out there to forage on the blossoms. We’re in a wonderful flow in Ohio right now, but the rain interferes. But I am powerless over the weather, so I just lift my umbrella and carry on.

I’ve been lousy at keeping this blog updated because I’m sort of out of the mood to write. Also, I’m busy visiting all the beehives I’ve placed around the neighborhood.

I’ll try to do a better job here. I may be doing a better job over on the TwoHoneys Bee Company Facebook page, so f you want to go over there and “Like” the page, you’ll see more updates and conversations about the bees.

Christy's Bees Are Dead, Too

Christy’s bees died, too.

A few weeks ago, we talked about how worried we’ve been about our bees, and on the only nice day last week, Christy opened her hive to find a ball of dead bees. She had only the one hive—she got about 90 pounds of honey from it last summer. This would have been their third year. She had concerns because there were no signs that the bees were cleaning the hive…no dead bees piling up outside the entrance of the boxes. You just get this feeling in your gut that things aren’t right.

So, she’s not sure what happened to kill them all. But she has a PhD in one of the sciences…biology, maybe?…and she’s very very scientific about this stuff, so she and Max-the-bee-mentor are gonna do a little autopsy to figure it out. I asked her to include me.

I’m betting that they simply starved. All that rain we had last summer really set the bees back. They don’t forage in the rain. And if they don’t store enough food, they die. That’s my guess, anyway, because so many of us lost colonies this winter. And we’re all walking around with long faces, though we light up at the thought of our new bees arriving in April. We’re all trying it again.