Yesterday I opened both hives to see how much comb the bees had built in the honey supers.
None. Nada. Nuttin. Nope.
I had to accept the fact that I probably won’t get any honey for myself and my friends this season. I know. I know. I’ve been saying all along that if I didn’t get any honey the first year, it wouldn’t matter. After all, beekeepers are supposed to take the excess only. The bees need enough honey and pollen stores to make it through the winter. [Yes, I agree. It’s hard to think of winter when it’s 95 degrees outside.]
Still, there’s always been that glimmer of hope. Why else would I order a honey-filtering kit from Brushy Mountain Bee Farm? Why else would I invest on all those unassembled super frames? Why else would I start an Excel spreadsheet of people to give honey to? Why else would I have TWO SHELVES of glass jars stockpiled in my garage?
As I saw the dismal result of my experiment with the open, top-bar-style supers, I decided my bees couldn’t figure out how to build comb there, so I replaced the frames with some plastic-foundation supers. That way my girls will have a template to draw out their comb. I’ll feel happy if they can fill it so they’ll be ready for winter.
Yes – I’ll feel happy about that. But I’m feeling sad about the honey I won’t have for me and for you.
BEEattitude for Day # 256:Blessed are those who change course when circumstances require it. We bees do that, and we eventually find very good flowers as a result.
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