Bees

The bees were hived today in the garden on 8th Street. They’d been sitting around for a week because the nor’easter and the resulting cold delayed the process. A fair number were dead, alas, but with four pounds of them to begin with, there were many thousands still being. (Impossible to resist the be-in jokes). We had two boxes, with one queen for each of the hives. There was some worry that the Queens might not be in good shape. But the cry went up: The Queen is alive. Long Live the Queen! Twice.

Basically, the bees were just poured into the hive, given some sugar water (no vodka in that simple syrup), and set up with the queen (who's in a little cage with a couple helpers). The hive needs to smell her, bond with her; they will chew their way into her, sealing the deal.

I donned a suit and got up to observe, but then -- the suit having just been shucked by another bee elf -- I noticed a bee inside my hood. Uh-oh. Hey girl, chill.