It 's been about a week since we last peeped into the hive, so we opened it again this evening. I suited up in my long sleeve shirt and tucked my pants into socks, but Jordan went in a la t-shirt. I think he's taking some pride in his family heritage--apparently, his grandfather kept bees for decades, something he never knew until the subject came up when we got our hive.
I forgot to buy a fresh smudge stick today, so we dug into our box of majick supplies and found some sprigs of white sage and a charcoal tablet for burning incense. You know, these things make so little smoke I don't know why we even bother. Jordan futzed around with getting that old bit of charcoal to light while I got dressed. Honestly, I'm not that scared of getting stung. It's just that after having bees fly all the way up my pants leg, I'm afraid of getting stung there. Can you blame me? (my beloved has already asserted there are some body parts he will not suck venom out of...)
There comes a point almost every time we're about to do some beekeeping that I start getting excited. Sometimes I'm still on work time, bustling, hectic, and the bees are just so cool, i can't wait to--and I get right to the verge of saying to Jordan, hurry up, it's getting dark, or c'mon, stop fucking with that---and then I realize. I'm rushing with that hectic no-time-to-lose energy out to the hive, where it can only bring doom and destruction, and that Jordan is doing the right thing: moving with deliberate slowness, bringing his breath to the center, grounding.
Then, I slow down. I remember to breathe, open my mind to the forest around us, and once I can feel the air moving, smell the fresh leaves, hear the birds, I say, "Hello bees." And this is one of my favorite things the bees are teaching me: slow down.
This time we found lots and lots of brood cells and fat grubs, and the bees had already built significant comb on the two new bars. If you want to see what a top bar honeycomb looks like, check out the Barefoot Beekeeping link (sorry, we are still camera-challenged). We added two more bars and spent a little time cleaning out debris a house wren carted in when she decided the hive looked like a great nesting spot. Bad idea, wren! Even if the bees turned out not to mind, we'd still need to open the hive from time to time, disturbing her. It made me want to set up some bird houses, though, just like watching a hummingbird navigate getting a drink of syrup without upsetting the bees makes me want to set up some hummer stations.
I've cut back offering sugar water every day, alternating syrup plain water in the feeder, since it hasn't rained much the last couple of weeks. They're only taking maybe a pint of syrup a day, even when it is out there, so I think the timing is right to wean them. They seem to appreciate having the water close by: there are always a handful of workers on water duty.
On a different note, writing the Pollen post yesterday made me realize something. I don't talk to my friends and family much about herbs and nutritional healing, because that's what I do all day and I don't want the store to essentially become my whole life. It's not like it's my store...I'm not a doctor, I just play one at work.
But that means even though I spend all day counseling people about their health issues, I'm not helping the people I love. Which hardly seems right. I don't know what I'll do about it yet, because I still don't want work to become my whole life. For now, I at least want you guys to know I'm here to help if you need it.
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