My dear friend Nanette Littlestone, who also happens to be my editor and therefore helps bring order to my often chaotic manuscripts, asked if she could see the bees. “Sure,” I said. “Come Thursday and you can help!”
So she dropped by that afternoon. The cage the queen bee came in needed to be removed, and I needed to replace that extra frame I’d taken out as I was installing the package. Nanette watched as I tried and tried and tried to light the smoker. She cheered when I finally managed the task. She stood back as I lifted the lid.
Oh, expletive! I’d left the queen cage in there too long because the bees had busily built two gorgeous sections of comb hanging down from the lid into the space I’d left open. Naturally, when I lifted the lid, that comb came up with it, covered by hundreds of working bees. They were stuffing it full of nectar and pollen. Much to my chagrin, as I discovered later – there were dozens (hundreds?) of teeny-tiny bee eggs in the comb as well.
If I’d lifted the empty cage out on Tuesday or Wednesday, I might have saved the lives of all those little eggs that now won’t grow into beehood. I’m feeling really sad right now. I know I can’t save every bee on the planet. I can’t even save every bee in my own yard. But I sure do wish I could have foreseen this problem.
S I G H . . .
Of course, the good news is that, even though I didn’t spot the queen herself, I have incontrovertible proof that she lives and thrives.
Maybe I’ll just concentrate on that.
BEEattitude for Day # 192:
Blessed are those who understand how we work, for they shall find happiness in knowing.