Today, I’ve decided to host bees in my city backyard.
Some people call it “keeping bees,” others call it “having bees.” At this point, it’s more like this for me:
Entering a strange new world where thousands of stinging creatures live in my yard and I’m theoretically fine with this because I invited them in.
Chin up! Bee drama only exists on the evening news, I tell myself. That whole africanized thing was a myth.
And so today I’m ordering a #3 Allstar bee package (which is hopefully the same thing as a “nuc“) from B. Weaver. Not because I’m a discerning customer am I ordering the #3 Allstar type, but simply because some old guy in my local beekeeping group told me to.
When it comes to beekeeping, I’m learning apprenticeship matters. Sometimes, it’s best just to do what the seasoned folks tell you.
mistress beek 
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