You do recall, don’t you, that the package bees went into the rubber-duck-yellow hive I’d bought way back last October? And that the fully-functioning hive I brought home (along with the 3-pound package of bees) turned out to be white. Because that one has been functioning as a working hive for long enough for the bees to build up their comb and fill it with pollen and honey and eggs and larvae and pupae and those cute little emerging baby bees, there have been a lot of bee trips in and out of the front entrance, which is simply a hole about an inch in diameter.
As I sat watching the bees late yesterday afternoon, I noticed that the entrance hole on the yellow hive is still as bright yellow as the rest of the box, but the one on the white hive is – well – rather grungy-looking. It didn’t take long to figure out that I was looking at countless bee footprints.
Imagine your kitchen floor, newly scrubbed. Now imagine a virtual hoard of family members tromping in from outside, where they’ve been cavorting barefooted in the grass. And they each walk across the floor not once, not twice, but thousands of times.
Get the idea?
BEEattitude for Day # 193:
Blessed are our house bees, for they keep the hive cleaned out – except for the footprints, which we don’t mind.
One thing Fran is grateful for right now:
The leafy green of my back-deck potato plants growing up to the sun
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