The Intrepid Beekeeper

It’s very late in the season for the bees, but I noticed they’re still emptying the jars of syrup I provide them, so I’ve just kept on replenishing them. However yesterday I thought it was getting ridiculous as soon the syrup’s going to be frozen in the jar. And I know the bees won’t drink it if it’s under 5 degrees C out.

In the late afternoon, IE around 4:00 PM as it was already getting dark, I put on the jacket of my bee suit and grabbed my special gloves. I went down and took the jar off the hole, and stapled down the metal mesh guard. Naturally this enraged the bees, and a couple of them decided I needed to be attacked.

I’d done only a casual closure of the bee jacket, and I could hear some bees buzzing around me as I ran up the hill in the semi dark. I ran downstairs and tore off the jacket and gloves, and then ran into Nicky’s living room and said “Do you see a bee near me?”

He said he could hear it, and so I ripped off my cardigan and sweater, tearing off an earring in the process, and threw the clothes on the floor. I stood there in my bra and asked in a high state of agitation if he could see any bees, and he said not yet but if you’re that scared why don’t you get out of this area? Screaming, I left the room and ran upstairs as fast as I could see.

A minute later Nicky arrived upstairs, and calmly handed me the sweater and cardigan, and said there were two bees, which he’d killed. I said well thanks, and put on my clothes. Remember when I was badly stung on the ankles and then said hey guess what, now I’m no longer scared of the bees? I was wrong.

Now I just have to duct tape a bit of styrofoam around the hive for insulation for the winter, and then buh bye bees until spring. And it’s just in time for me to concentrate on my High Season, which is in full swing.

The other day a nice customer called saying she was on her way home to Calgary and wondered if she could pick up 3 fruitcakes. I said sure, and waited for her to arrive. It was around 5:30 PM, pitch dark out, and surprise, my outside lights aren’t working.

I was sitting there watching the news when I heard a knock at the French doors leading to the deck. There was the poor woman, trying to bust her way in to get her fruitcakes. She said she’d knocked on the front door, but in this house, you can’t hear anything like that. I said to her people really have to work hard to get fruitcakes from me, don’t they?

Have I mentioned I’m a victim of migraines? I probably have, given my penchant to elicit pity whenever possible. In my zeal to prevent them, as well as giving up all alcohol as it’s a trigger, I’ve now bought an expensive device called a Cefaly. Not sure if you’ve ever been to a physiotherapist, but this device is a TENS machine.

You put electrodes on your head, then turn it on, and strong electrical currents pulsate through the noggin. The brochure says it’s very relaxing, and you may fall asleep. I’ve now tried it three times and am clenching my fists and counting the minutes until it turns off because I perceive it as damned painful. Perhaps that explains my outsized fear of innocent bees, a low pain threshold.