How Are the Bees?

During one of our regular check-ins with Tom’s Aunt Cindy, she paused mid-conversation, right in the middle of catching up on family and weather, and asked, “How are the bees?”

It’s a question we hear a lot. Not just from Cindy. We hear it at the feed store, leaning against a counter while someone scoops pellets; at a volleyball or archery tournament between sets and conversations about school and schedules; standing in a driveway, talking about something completely unrelated — it’s almost like a refrain:

“How are the bees?”

It’s funny, because it’s never really just about the bees. Not entirely. It’s a way of asking how things are going, how the land is holding up, how the winter treated us, what kind of spring we’re stepping into.

But this time, when Cindy asked, I couldn’t answer right away.

I thought about the end of winter and how the hive had gotten light. Light enough that I could lift it with one arm, which I couldn’t do at the end of summer. It was clear they had eaten their way through the majority of what they worked for the season before.

I thought about the choice we made last fall to leave it all for them. I lost my first hive to starvation, leaving me with a heavy guilt and a lot of second-guessing about whether I had any business becoming a beekeeper in the first place. So the past two seasons, we didn’t pull any honey. Not even “just a little.” We’ve left it all to them.

Having a hive survive the winter is a badge of honor for a beekeeper. Especially a newer one. And now, we’ve done it twice with this hive. That tells me we’re doing something right.

And then my mind shifted to spring and to everything waiting for us in the the garden. We have tarps to stretch to hold back the weeds, fresh mulch to spread, rows to plans. For once, it doesn’t feel like we’re behind. A mild winter and just enough rain have everything right on time… maybe even a step ahead.

When we walk that space as a family, talking through where things should go and what gets planted first, we’re always mindful of the hive. It sits right there on the edge of it all now. Not tucked away. Not separate. Somewhere along the way, the hive stopped being a project and just became part of the rhythm of the ranch.

So… how are the bees?

They’re good. Better than good, really. They made it through winter, and now they’re restocking: bringing in pollen, rebuilding, getting back to work like nothing ever slowed them down.

Since talking with Cindy, I have been back to check on them. I even tried to lift the hive. It didn’t move. Not with one arm. It’s heavy again and on its way to being full.

And around here, that means we’re off to a good start.