It was about two months ago that I wrote about being cautiously optimistic about our bees. The colony seemed robust and contented, and there were signs of actual, genuine honey in the two supers we’d added to the two deeps.
I will emphasize that my optimism, as it always is with bees, was cautious. But still, it was optimism.
Two astute commenters, both of whom are obviously experienced with bees, warned me. “They are lulling you in to complacency,” MarthaEliza wrote, “waiting for that feeble flicker of hope to ignite into a blaze of confidence. That’s when it will all go sideways.”
Laura added, “This is the distraction while nature sends a plague of weasels to eat your chickens or a woodchuck to mow down your garden. There you are, enthralled by the beauty and industry of a thriving hive, meanwhile, nature is doing an end run on your kale.”
Let me take a moment to add an aside here. I will hold up the Starving commentariat against any in the blogosphere. You are funny and smart and interesting, and you also seem to have a great number of cold, hard facts at your fingertips. You know how to do things, and you never sneer at me when I don’t. Instead, you provide helpful suggestions and moral support. I thank all of you for your contribution.
But especially MarthaEliza and Laura, because they helped me keep my feet on the ground.
Are you two out there? I need your help again.
Kevin and I opened the hive yesterday, and we found that everything seemed still to be going smoothly. We didn’t open the deeps because we didn’t want to disturb the colony, so it’s possible that they’ve got a meth lab or something going in there and it will all end in tears, but the honey supers are slowly filling with actual, genuine honey.
I can’t help it. I’m picturing the glass jar with the spigot on the bottom, sitting on the shelf in my kitchen, ready to dispense OUR OWN HONEY into smoothies, or baked goods, or tea.
I know this is foolish. I know so many things can go wrong between now and a honey harvest. I know I shouldn’t have this picture in my mind because the likelihood that I will be disappointed is so very high. But it comes, unbidden.
Laura? MarthaEliza? Where are you when I need you?