Chris...
The Farm Wife, didn't expect most of this, and wondering how I got here?
April 24, 2009
Day 114: Year 3
I never wanted to be a Farm Wife. Even more emphatically, however, I have never, ever wanted anything to do with bees! You may recall from Day 73: Gardening, Bugs and Bluebirds that my relationship with stinging creatures is not a good one—they sting me. I don't like that.
Imagine my shock and horror then when Ray announced that he was going to take up beekeeping. My first question was, as I'm sure yours would have been in these circumstances, "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?!" Now, to be fair, this subject (the condition of his mental state) has been debated frequently and in great depth, with the results obvious to anyone who knows Ray. If you doubt me—and why in the world would you doubt me—just take a glance at any of his Farm pages!
Imagine my total disbelief when his reply was, "Why? What's wrong with that?" It was all I could do to not pull out Day 73 and read selected passages to him detailing my negative history and therefore emotional terror of bees. But I refrained. Yes, I did! Instead I simply explained that I have always hated bees, wasps, yellow jackets, hornets and had no intention of purposely creating a homestead for any of them anywhere within shouting distance of my home, for indeed, shouting would be imminent.
Imagine my incredulity when he professed ignorance of my mindset. I suggested that he not let any of our offspring know what he'd just said or they, too, would know he was out of his mind. Although, really, they already know. This would just be further proof of the depths to which he had sunk.
Imagine, if you will, the degree to which I objected to this new scheme and all aspects of the research which I was forced to listen to. Yes, I know honey bees are in a dangerous decline. Yes, I know they make honey. Yes, I like honey. Yes, I know they pollinate flowers, fruits and vegetables. Why couldn't he understand how this would end badly?!
Imagine—no, there's no need for you to imagine the next part, for naturally, Ray purchased books, a beekeeper's hat, shirt and gloves.
Principle 1: Beekeeping is a lonely occupation, a sole proprietorship, a one-man show.
Principle 2: Beekeeping attire is confining, complicated and claustrophobic (but also kinda cute when Ray's wearing it).
Principle 3: Any "hobby" that requires full-encapsulating, screened clothing is not likely to be all that fun.
Principle 4: Anything that involves close contact with hordes of stinging insects is as fun as it sounds.
Principle 5: Beekeeping is not for me.
Enthused as he was with yet another new hobby, Ray also ordered bees. Are you aware that you can order bees over the phone? Yes, thousands of bees, entire hives of bees, are ready and waiting to be picked up and taken home by the spouses of innocent people! Did you know that as you're driving down any street, road or highway in the nation, the vehicle next to yours could be loaded with bees?! We heard anecdotally that a huge semi full of bees became involved in an accident whereupon millions of bees were released into a neighborhood without warning. And get this! The town was thrilled! Yes, thrilled! The bee population in the town was seriously low, and obviously no one was going to reclaim the escaped bees, so the town got to keep them all. Speaking as a large entity, "the town", there may have been excitement, but I noted that there were no individual interviews of citizens gleefully watching swarm after swarm buzzing their way into garages, attics and club houses. No, sirree! Just one guy, the mayor, saying that the town needed bees. There was no follow-up story regarding his re-election bid...
So, Ray ordered two hives of bees. Fortunately for him, I was in Chicago when the call came that his bees were ready and waiting for transport. Nevertheless, I received a riveting explanation of the day's transaction, which I shall share with you here in the reconstructed narrative of our phone calls.
Call #1:
Ray: Guess what! I get to go pick up the bees!
Chris: I'm so glad I'm in Chicago! How will you get them home?
R: I'm just going to drive my car there, get the bees and come home. Simple!
C: I'm so glad I'm in Chicago!
R: But you'd come with me if you were here, right?
C: Not on your life, Buddy boy! In a confined space with two hives of bees? You're out of your mind! I'm so glad I'm in Chicago!
R: I'll call you when I get back home...
Call #2:
Ray: Well, that was anti-climactic. Each hive was in its own wooden box, hibernating (more or less)
The queen was in her own little screened box, inside the hive box but separated from the hive by a piece of hard candy. That way, by the time the hive wakes up and eats the candy, the bees are used to her smell (who knew bees smelled?) and when the queen is released they accept her and don't kill her. (Some men are just as easily persuaded to accept new things. Distract them with a piece of candy and they're hooked.)
Call #2, continued:
Chris: Interesting. But how did you get the boxes home?
R: I just put them in the back of the car. But as they got jostled around a bit, I could hear them start to buzz, and they sounded angry, so...[are you ready for this? I wasn't!]...so I PUT THEM UP FRONT ON THE SEAT NEXT TO ME! [You see?! This is precisely why I would not have gone with him, even if I had been in Ohio. He put thousands of angry bees, not only in the car, but in the front, right next to him!!]
C: Oh (I said calmly, while the hairs on my arm stood upright, even though I was safely in a distant state.] Did that work? Did they calm down?
R: Not really. I think they didn't like being bumped around.
C: How will you get them out of the box?
R: According to the book, you just dump the box upside down on top of the hive box, and give it a good thump to dislodge them.
C: (gasping now, unable to breath, stammering, worried for his safety since it was too late for his sanity) Are you sure you read that right? Dump them out? Thump the box? Aren't they already angry? Why will they just go into the hive instead of attacking you?!!
R: I'm not sure. I think it's because they'll still be a little groggy.
C: You think?! You think they'll still be groggy?! Are you out of your mind?!!! THEY ARE ALREADY MAD!
R: Oh, I'm sure it will be okay.
C: Well, call me when you're done so I know you survived...
IMHO, the only reason this turned out okay for Ray was that I was in Chicago, thousands of miles away from the angry bees. I am confident that if I had been anywhere on the property, even safely ensconced in the house with all the doors and windows tightly shut, I would have been stung somehow. I'm sure of it.
Fast forward now to 4 days later. I've returned home and in the process of unpacking, I notice a strange wooden box sitting on top of the dryer. "Odd," I think. "Could this be a bee box, and if so, why is it inside my home?!" Gingerly (that means carefully, not "with ginger"), I gave it a little nudge. I heard buzzing. Chalking it up to terror and imagination, unwilling to believe that my beloved husband had indeed purposely carried a bee into my house, I gave it another nudge. More buzzing. This time a bit louder, angrier. I searched anxiously—and quickly—for something flat and sturdy to place over the hole in the top, grabbed a piece of cardboard (see why it's important to not have a spotlessly empty house?! One never knows when one will need a piece of cardboard to cover a hole in a bee box. Not if you live with Ray!), and put it over the hole. Then I reached into the shoe shelves, took out one of our grandson's favorite (heavy!) rocks for his collection, and placed it on top of the cardboard. Then, shaking, muttering, I held the covered box at arm's length, maneuvered the screen door open, and carried the whole shebang outside, putting it where Ray would be sure to see it.
Fast forward to a few hours later. Ray has returned to the house (from who cares where) and is now questioning the positioning of the now-outside bee box. "Hey, why is the bee box outside? I wanted to show it to you."
Chris: Come outside and show me, but be careful, there are still some bees in it.
Ray: No way! I totally emptied that box. I checked inside it and everything.
C: There are bees in the box. I heard them buzzing.
R: No way! [get this!] You must have imagined it!
C: Open the box. Look in the box.
...
Ray: Huh. [shaking head in disbelief] Look at that. Two bees. I thought they were dead.
Chris: What? You knew there were bees in there? And you brought it in the house? You said it was "totally empty..."
R: Well, except for the two dead ones...
C: Who weren't really dead...See why I don't trust them? Sure, you think they're harmless. You think they're dead. But they're faking it! Just waiting—for 4 days!—mind you, until I come home! Do not ever bring bees or bee equipment into my house! Period.
And now, having been so honest and yet dramatic, I must continue to be completely forthcoming, although less dramatic, offering information which I could have simply left out...Are you ready?...It wasn't so bad having the bees here. The first time Ray showed me the hives, I insisted on driving down in the car, and warned him that if anything went amiss, I planned to drive out and call for help. But I absolutely, positively would not be getting out of the car to help him if he got swarmed by two hives of angry bees. He laughed. I didn't.
The first time we walked down the path past the hives, I hugged the left side so closely I was practically in the brush. But nothing happened. Then I noticed more honey bees in the gardens. But nothing happened. Honey bees and bumblebees galore, and nothing happened. For the first time in my entire life, I was surrounded by busy bees, bees delighting in the sweet nectar I was providing them! Go figure! I learned to coexist with bees! (Wasps and hornets are still to be avoided, even killed, just so you know.)
Fast forward to March 2010...Remember how I said Ray didn't understand that this would end badly? Well I'm relieved to report that I was never stung, but it did end up badly for the bees. They survived all through the freezing winter, then suddenly, in the early spring, both hives died. Every single bee, dead. And we never got even one drop of honey.
In 2010, we got a goat.
Man, are we happy out here?
