Allow me to introduce my new roommates… all 40,000 of them.
Yes, I now have a beehive in the backyard, not because I’m very touchy-feely earthy mothery – I got into them before the current wave of “Save the Bees” mania – but because the idea always seemed sort of romantic and medieval. I’m a Renaissance man! Well, woman. ‘Cause really, when you think about it, having a box full of pets that could theoretically kill you if they got mad enough – I mean, that’s pretty *%$^#! goth. No? Yeah, my boyfriend thinks I’m an idiot too.
We’ll see who’s laughing when I make honey and biscuits for breakfast. AND REFUSE TO SHARE.
Actually he’s been great about the new beasties, helped to put the hives together (they come in a flat pack, as if it’s designed by IKEA) and feeding them when I went to Boston a couple of weeks ago. I’d make a joke here about washing all those tiny little plates, but you people are way to smart for that. Aren’t you? Yes, you are. They actually eat out of an upside down bottle, like a hamster feeder – if your hamster consumed 4 pounds of sugar water a week. And wouldn’t he be running in that little wheel THEN.
So welcome, bees. The garden was less lovely without you.