Yesterday was my B-day.  I got up early, drove to the hills beyond Hendersonville, and collected my new crop of bees.  We drove home together, me singing and seat dancing, they quietly humming from their spot in the way back of my car.

 

One lone worker bee preferred to be up front with me, tapping my side window as we made our way north.  We observed each other from a distance, curious about why we were there and what was to become of us.

 

New bees arrive in many ways.  This box is called a nuc (short for nucleus.)  Containing 5 frames of bees, around 10,000, which are mostly workers, it is a handy way to raise a starter colony and transport it from the bee nursery to its new home.  

 

We make dinners to go Monday through Friday.

 

Call 252-1500 by noon or so and then come pick up your dinners between 3 and 7, when we close. Add a salad for 3.25 or bread for 1.25.

 

Monday, April 30

Herb roasted Chicken with Sugar Snap Peas 7.95

 

Tuesday, May 1

Shrimp and Guacamole Tostado with Rice 9.25 (GF)

 

Wednesday, May 2

Chicken Paprikash with Egg Noodles 7.95

 

Thursday, May 3

Herb-roasted Pork Tenderloin with Apple Chutney 8.75

 

Friday, May 4

Call by noon and then come pick up between 4 and 7 that day!

 

Casserole:

Wednesday, May 2

Whole: 60 Half: 30

 

Lasagna:

Friday, May 4

Opening the nuc is a thrill, especially when it has as many bees as this one did.  Once the lid is unscrewed and lifted off, the bees, who have lived in this tight space, rush to the new, huge opening and, celebrating this unexpected freedom, take off in a whoosh. 

 

Having so recently looked into my over-wintered hives to find only dead bees, the sight of all these beauties is almost beyond my ability to explain.

 

I have spent this past year leading a double life: one being a person with a daunting pile of getting-through-cancer necessities. 

 

 

April 30, 2012

 

Hi all. I write on Sunday this week. Yesterday morning, when I normally would have been writing, I was collecting and installing my new bees in their home in my front yard. And then I visited with my friend and then she, who had taken some pictures, had to go home – AFTER she did errands, and then had to edit and then send those pictures to me. I decided to wait to write and send this to you until I got the pictures – which was mid afternoon by the time they arrived. But then my home computer got fussy and I do not know how to do picture finagling on my iPad and then I was off to a wedding.  No newsletter, no newsletter, no newsletter.

 

Anyway – by the time I figured out I would have to write from work, it was too late and I was too tired to make the trek into town. SO – Sunday morning. Here we go!

 

This is a big week for me. Of course, a huge event is getting my bees. I feel like a proud parent, though one with a considerable amount of concern and trepidation. I so want these bees to live, to thrive, to get into a good school (okay – not so much.) As I’ve been working on my book, I have been learning so much more about the environmental pressures that weigh on these innocents. I, along with many other beekeepers, lost many, or all, of my bees this year. In February they were alive. In March they were not. How, I ask myself, can I write a book about bees when mine keep dying? I guess that’s one of the points of these two projects: persist and continue to do the right thing and try to spread the word and hope it makes a difference.

 

Last week was the one year anniversary of finding out I had cancer. And this week, tomorrow, to be exact, I get the very final procedure done: removing the port that was inserted last June, making it easier to administer chemotherapy. Getting the port taken out is a huge symbol, a statement that I am done, really done, with treatments. Tomorrow it goes. And then, on Wednesday, I reach the magical two month mark, the point at which I am cleared for exercise and carrying on.

 

Later on today I am going to go for my first bike ride. One tiny, incremental step at a time I am distancing myself from my own definitions and redefining myself with new ones. I am no longer a person in treatment. And, while I will not forget this past year, I also will not regret it. Nor will I live as if that’s all there is for me.

 

The day I found out I was going to need 6 months of chemotherapy (which turned into 7) I also found out that I had a contract for my book. Those two incredibly powerful pieces of information came hours apart, starting me off with a bang. Yes, I was headed for a hugely scary medical time, but I also had my project to sustain me and remind me that this treatment was not going to be my end.

 

And now the bees are in their new home, tucked into my garden in my front yard.  I have decided to name these hives.  The one on the right is Iona, the magical island in Scotland that is a place of great spiritual importance.  The other is, for now, being called Stonehenge. 

 

I hope these bees thrive and settle in and resist the environmental difficulties that were the demise of my other bees.  I so want to be one who provides a nourishing, safe, healthy home.  I want to shield them from harm, learn from them, help others understand.