Many of you who know me, know that I love bees. I used to be a little afraid of them, I used to get stung. My husband and daughter are bee charmers, which I thought was a biological thing. I have since come to the suspicion that it is more of a learned fear issue. I can't tickle bees like Dearest Husband can but they crawl on me and then fly away. We have an apiary set up in our basement (don't worry, vacant) and it is one of the few things moving with us.
Of course we explored the apiaries at one of the farms:
This is a friendly hive, the farmer informed us:
This one is more grouchy. The more grouchy ones are placed farther out in the fields away from the tour traffic. Perhaps they are grouchy from just being honey harvested?
This is a freshly scraped honey comb.
I can't wait to bee on a farm!
This is a friendly hive, the farmer informed us:
This one is more grouchy. The more grouchy ones are placed farther out in the fields away from the tour traffic. Perhaps they are grouchy from just being honey harvested?
This is a freshly scraped honey comb.
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A blog about farming, unschooling, feminism, 22q deletion syndrome, cooking real food, homesteading, permaculture, and motherhood.