Today, a lovely soft man came and took away my bee stuff, a retiree with a charming French accent, a great big belly and a beat-up old Renault station wagon. A chem-free brand new beekeeper taking a beginner class from Rich Weiske, who keeps bees barefoot and without a veil so as not to scare the little ladies. My very last chat about whether I succeeded in overwintering (I did not) and speculation about how to increase the odds of survival next season.
It took me quite a lot of time to gather together all the bee stuff. Maybe the tears slowed me down a little. Yes, I actually cried, foolish as it sounds. I got up before 6, because once I'd woken up, I couldn't stop thinking about Jean-Francois's coming that morning to take it all away.
I'd forgotten a lot of the cool stuff I have. He took it all, with gratitude: the beat-up old flour sifter I use to distribute powered sugar in the hive to knock down the varroa mites. A book about honey tasting, and two books about beginning beekeeping. An extra hive tool. Cheese cloth for straining honey. A swarm catcher (how I dreamed of catching a swarm someday!). An ingenious mason jar feeder that Winn Harliss made for me. Smoker fuel. I had nine medium hive bodies, not just eight; someone gave me one that I'd forgotten about.
My price must have been too low, because within two hours of posting the ad, I had almost a dozen queries about my bee stuff. It was unlike any other Craig's list ad, because along with "Is it still available?" I also got messages of commiseration, requests for beginner tips, and questions about the relative merits of different pieces of equipment.
It was a final reminder of what may actually be the biggest loss of all: beekeepers are really, really nice people. People you want to spend an afternoon with. People you might ask for advice, invite over to grill, or ask to help you move. As a beekeeper, you know you can go anywhere and instantly have a community of kind and able friends who share your basic moral framework. People who care about the earth, its creatures, and each other.
Jean-Francois said he didn't need to look at the house numbers to know which house had a beekeeper living in it. He could tell by the garden, full of the flowers that bees love. Well, I'm not changing my garden. Next year, I'll have even more time to spend in it.
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