We harvested honey today, from our hottest hive.
Not, like, damn, look at the ass on that bee hot. I mean hot as in them there are WILD bees, son, and they WILL sting you.
Fortunately, C has gotten very close to perfecting the art of the stealth honey steal. There were only about five hundred bees buzzing angrily around our heads.
Bees: What the hell? We never asked you giant astronauts to rip the roof off our home and take our stuff. What the hell?
Us: Sorry. Sorry sorry sorry.
Bees: You guys SUCK.
We made off with four frames of absolutely delicious honey and an adrenaline rush unequalled.
For me, standing in the midst of a cloud of pissed-off bees transmogrifies anxiety into a sudden and deep calm. I get very still, and move slowly, but deliberately. The very worst thing you can do is react, or flip out, or thrash your limbs around and yell. For all the New Age hoo-hah dealers out there, come and stand up on the roof during a harvest. It’s one thing to dole out platitudes in downward dog – it’s entirely another to breathe steadily while hundred of tiny creatures are dive-bombing you, stingers at the ready.
It’s an excellent test of just how zen you can be. Bee. Be.
But if you can hack it, if you can enter and exit the process with the same high levels of respect and humility, then you get THIS:
And, of course, it’s worth it. Even if you get 31 stings. Just ask C. But that’s another harvest.