The world is filled with postures of certainty, like a well-honed consumer behavior study or the latest microeconomic manifesto. And that, my friends, is why I keep bees.
I keep bees for the pure moments of surprise, doubt, and confusion that inevitably arise when I least expect them…
- When the burgeoning hive that towers like a honey-filled monster in my backyard disappears without a trace while I’m in Sweden.
- When the walkaway split that I created like a reckless cowgirl manages to A) raise a queen; B) mate the queen; C) return the queen before her sisters revolt; and D) grow a new generation in time for winter.
- When the perfect hive succumbs like a midnight victim to varroa.
- When the underdog colony I presumed dead in March turns out to be jammed full of bees and blasting into summer.
I keep bees for the magic of utterly unexpected moments filled with challenge and hope; disappointment and glittering joy. I keep bees for all that I could never hope to control.