“You could go right now, but I don’t think you’re ready,” he said. How insane for someone else to tell me that I’m not ready?
My brother, mom, grandfather, and I teamed up to take care of a single hive for my first time ever keeping my own bees. My mother paid for the bees, grandfather agreed to mentor us, and my brother attended a beekeeping seminar where he ordered a nuc of Carniolan honeybees. My cousin Alex, his girlfriend Blaine, and I picked up our nucs of honeybees from the local hardware store in Late May. The nucs contained a box of 5 10″ frames with honey, the bees (of course), queen (of course), a blank frame, and some brood (I believe). Alex and Blaine ordered their 10-frame boxes off Etsy and they set up their hive in the window of the second story in their barn, in order to avoid any pests.
When you lose everything and everyone,
it’s hard to stay on the tracks
until you notice you were pretending
and didn’t have anything to begin with.
This is for the terrible beautiful confused people who didn’t know how to tell me they were sorry when they ripped my heart into shreds. This is for the dog we found in my cousin’s backyard, fell in love with, and named Friday after the day we found him. This is for the man I gave my virginity to who proclaimed his love to me in six stanzas while I held tears back looking up at the stars on a porch swing to the scent of pecans. Continue reading