So... last summer I decided to become a beekeeper. It just seemed like a cool thing to do...you know, like, for the environment and stuff.
Actually I was driving down a street near my house about 2 years ago and saw a “Honey for Sale” sign out in the front yard of someone’s home. I stopped because I love local honey (and its health benefits, of course).
When I knocked on the door, the owner of the house, Mr. Dodson, came to greet me. He was 86 years old and had been keeping bees for about 30 years. He sold his honey every summer and was happy to see that he had a new customer. He offered to show me his backyard hives. I was fascinated by them and had never seen beehives up close and personal. I caught the “bug” so to speak-- pun intended. The next visit I actually donned a jacket and veil and he let me accompany him as he opened up one hive to do a hive check. The buzzing of the bees was both startling and terrifying and the sight of actually looking inside the organism of a beehive was breathtaking. The smell of the wood of the hive box mixed with the beeswax was organic and unique. There is no other smell like it on earth. That’s when I decided to become a beekeeper, or apiarist, or beek.
I bought some gently used equipment that was being sold by a friend of my daughter; had Mr. Dodson, The Beekeeper, order me a box of bees; had my husband, The Doer of All Things Well, build me a hive stand; and then I was all ready to start life as a beekeeper. That all happened Spring 2016, one year ago. My bees arrived in early May and Mr. Dodson came over to deliver them and place them into the hive box. I helped by gently pushing and guiding them down into the hive box while Mr. Dodson shook them out of their shipping container. Piece of cake, right?
The rest of the summer I fed the bees, donned my beekeeping gear to open the hive to check on them occasionally (even though I had no idea what I was looking at), and depended on Mr. Dodson to tell me what to do and when to do it. I didn’t need to take any classes. I had Mr. Dodson, right? However by late September the last of my bees were dead and in early November Mr. Dodson, The Beekeeper and my mentor, passed away from pneumonia and heart failure. It was a very painful start to the practice of beekeeping.
Mr. Dodson, The Beekeeper, taught me many things. He taught me to always approach a hive from the back and not the front where their entrance is. Bees don’t like intruders or surprises. He taught me to always stay calm and be gentle because the bees can sense, through smell, fear and agitation and become agitated themselves. He taught me the importance of working with the bees on pretty days when they’re happily gathering pollen and nectar and doing what bees are supposed be doing and not on rainy or stormy days when bees are grumpy and defensive and housebound. He taught me to be still and watch the “front porch” (the entrance landing) of the hive to determine the health of the hive. A busy front porch means a healthy bee hive.
I also learned the beauty and peacefulness of sitting on a bench at daybreak, coffee in hand, watching the bees begin to leave the hive to go to work for the day. I also learned the joy of sitting on the bench with a glass of wine at sundown to watch the bees return home at the end of their busy work day. It was a time of peace and relaxation and a time to dwell on the miracles of God as Creator. God’s creation (especially of the bees) grants us wisdom for living day by day on this earth and in community with others.
I also learned that Mr. Dodson, The Beekeeper, served in the military, was a truck driver, and was a father to 2 grown boys. Mr. Dodson had a wife of 50 some years who had an advanced case of Alzheimer’s and he was her primary caregiver. He devoted most of his time, energy, patience and schedule around her needs. I learned that his bees were a respite from the stress of being a caregiver and I could tell that he greatly enjoyed coming over to my house and helping me with my bees. He would stay long and talk much and sometimes just show up. At times I was aggravated, but I learned patience from it and I think it gave him a break from the daily strain of being his wife’s caregiver. I miss his visits and advice so very much now and
I really, really miss the bees.
Last Saturday, I took my first beekeeping class at a honeybee sanctuary about an hour away from home. I plan to take 2 more classes there; I’ve ordered 2 packages of bees and will start 2 hives at the end of April. I’m absolutely petrified because I’m now on my own without Mr. Dodson, The Beekeeper. He gave me courage and confidence that I hope will return to me when I pick up my bees and transfer them to their new homes in my backyard.
Again, this is not about Ocracoke. Life is much broader than Ocracoke. My goal is to share the joy and beauty of life from the perspective of a middle aged woman sandwiched between 2 generations of differing needs: a life that is messy at times, extremely imperfect, but filled with the grace and joy of Christ in the midst of all of it.
Thank you, Father, for giving me Mr. Dodson, the Beekeeper, for a season, for a new hobby and love for something I never dreamed I could love, a stronger appreciation for the beauty and miracle of your creation, and, of course, for the wisdom of the bees.......
Actually I was driving down a street near my house about 2 years ago and saw a “Honey for Sale” sign out in the front yard of someone’s home. I stopped because I love local honey (and its health benefits, of course).
When I knocked on the door, the owner of the house, Mr. Dodson, came to greet me. He was 86 years old and had been keeping bees for about 30 years. He sold his honey every summer and was happy to see that he had a new customer. He offered to show me his backyard hives. I was fascinated by them and had never seen beehives up close and personal. I caught the “bug” so to speak-- pun intended. The next visit I actually donned a jacket and veil and he let me accompany him as he opened up one hive to do a hive check. The buzzing of the bees was both startling and terrifying and the sight of actually looking inside the organism of a beehive was breathtaking. The smell of the wood of the hive box mixed with the beeswax was organic and unique. There is no other smell like it on earth. That’s when I decided to become a beekeeper, or apiarist, or beek.
I bought some gently used equipment that was being sold by a friend of my daughter; had Mr. Dodson, The Beekeeper, order me a box of bees; had my husband, The Doer of All Things Well, build me a hive stand; and then I was all ready to start life as a beekeeper. That all happened Spring 2016, one year ago. My bees arrived in early May and Mr. Dodson came over to deliver them and place them into the hive box. I helped by gently pushing and guiding them down into the hive box while Mr. Dodson shook them out of their shipping container. Piece of cake, right?
The rest of the summer I fed the bees, donned my beekeeping gear to open the hive to check on them occasionally (even though I had no idea what I was looking at), and depended on Mr. Dodson to tell me what to do and when to do it. I didn’t need to take any classes. I had Mr. Dodson, right? However by late September the last of my bees were dead and in early November Mr. Dodson, The Beekeeper and my mentor, passed away from pneumonia and heart failure. It was a very painful start to the practice of beekeeping.
Mr. Dodson, The Beekeeper, taught me many things. He taught me to always approach a hive from the back and not the front where their entrance is. Bees don’t like intruders or surprises. He taught me to always stay calm and be gentle because the bees can sense, through smell, fear and agitation and become agitated themselves. He taught me the importance of working with the bees on pretty days when they’re happily gathering pollen and nectar and doing what bees are supposed be doing and not on rainy or stormy days when bees are grumpy and defensive and housebound. He taught me to be still and watch the “front porch” (the entrance landing) of the hive to determine the health of the hive. A busy front porch means a healthy bee hive.
I also learned the beauty and peacefulness of sitting on a bench at daybreak, coffee in hand, watching the bees begin to leave the hive to go to work for the day. I also learned the joy of sitting on the bench with a glass of wine at sundown to watch the bees return home at the end of their busy work day. It was a time of peace and relaxation and a time to dwell on the miracles of God as Creator. God’s creation (especially of the bees) grants us wisdom for living day by day on this earth and in community with others.
I also learned that Mr. Dodson, The Beekeeper, served in the military, was a truck driver, and was a father to 2 grown boys. Mr. Dodson had a wife of 50 some years who had an advanced case of Alzheimer’s and he was her primary caregiver. He devoted most of his time, energy, patience and schedule around her needs. I learned that his bees were a respite from the stress of being a caregiver and I could tell that he greatly enjoyed coming over to my house and helping me with my bees. He would stay long and talk much and sometimes just show up. At times I was aggravated, but I learned patience from it and I think it gave him a break from the daily strain of being his wife’s caregiver. I miss his visits and advice so very much now and
I really, really miss the bees.
Last Saturday, I took my first beekeeping class at a honeybee sanctuary about an hour away from home. I plan to take 2 more classes there; I’ve ordered 2 packages of bees and will start 2 hives at the end of April. I’m absolutely petrified because I’m now on my own without Mr. Dodson, The Beekeeper. He gave me courage and confidence that I hope will return to me when I pick up my bees and transfer them to their new homes in my backyard.
Again, this is not about Ocracoke. Life is much broader than Ocracoke. My goal is to share the joy and beauty of life from the perspective of a middle aged woman sandwiched between 2 generations of differing needs: a life that is messy at times, extremely imperfect, but filled with the grace and joy of Christ in the midst of all of it.
Thank you, Father, for giving me Mr. Dodson, the Beekeeper, for a season, for a new hobby and love for something I never dreamed I could love, a stronger appreciation for the beauty and miracle of your creation, and, of course, for the wisdom of the bees.......
My first package of bees arrived last Spring 2016. There are approximately 15,000 bees in this box. However, I did not count them!
After installing them into their new home, I started feeding them with sugar water (that’s what’s in the mason jar).
Observing the front porch (the wooden landing strip) at the bottom left of the hive box.
I found out that bees love Sedum.
I hate that it’s so blurry but then again, I’m no photographer.
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