Rogue Mountain Bees for Christmas

Because I have the most amazing husband, who believes in me and is willing to take a chance on my abilities -- even when I'm not -- we're about to become beekeepers!

I'm terrified that I'm going to kill all of them, right off the bat, but he insists I'll know enough by then, and everyone will be perfectly happy and healthy. I'm trying to believe him.

As usual, he sees the potential in my abilities before I do. My husband makes my world a better place. 

/tries not to hyperventilate. 

For Christmas, my sweet man gifted me with a hive set up. We purchase our bees this month for delivery in springtime. It's the fulfillment of a childhood dream.

I've learned that queen cells look different than the rest, that lots of things like to kill/eat/infect/steal/infest the bees or their home, that there are a lot of natural ways to care for them, pesticides are the industry norm, but can be avoided, and that it's actually a very brutal society.

Also, bees swarm and cook wasps who invade their hive. It's kind of gruesome, but a very stand-together-to-turn-the-overwhelming-tide and inspiring event. 

This particular fact (and learning that a bee's guts get pulled out of its back end, and thus dies when it stings) has inspired our recently-turned-9-year-old daughter to volunteer as my junior beekeeper, and overcome her fear of bee stings. ("So, they don't WANT to sting me?" "Well, would you want your guts to fall out of your bottom?" "Eww! NO!" "Me neither. So, there you go. They'd rather feel safe.")

We're going to be hunting for a Jr. beekeeper's suit soon. 

:)

 Also, bees are little math nerds. I love them already.