This is not that post.
A week ago this past Friday night, I was a kid on Christmas Eve. The long wait was over; I had made all of the preparations, and I was going to get my bees. I had been doing my waggle dance, over and over.
Saturday was going to bring rain by late morning, so I had planned to leave early, drive the three hours to the bee farm, and pay for and pick up the bees, before heading back and placing them in the hive. I was psyched.
Notice how everything is in the past progressive tense?
Didn't happen.
Kathe suggested that I call - and she's right - it is never a bad move to verify (and a move that, somehow, I consistently fail to make - I think it is a sense of hopeless optimism). I found the number and asked to speak to Ty. Pleasant enough voice responded, but he seemed confused. I explained who I was, and that I had contacted him about the bees. I wanted to purchase bees from him, and just wanted to make sure he was going to be there.
"Oh, right. You are the one that contacted me by email! Oh, well, none of those queens will be ready before April."
He went on to explain that he just needed to make sure that the queen and the brood were strong. He didn't want any chance of failure, and waiting would make sure that what he was selling me was a good product.
Two minutes later, and I looked like the kid whose ice cream just fell off the ice cream cone.
I spent most of the day that Saturday in a bit of a funk. I had waited for 14 years to get a place where I could have bees. During that 14 years, I had worked out multiple contingencies, approached a bunch of people about using abandoned land, even found a spot where I was planning on hiding the bees away in City Park, where nobody went. None of it worked out, but I had been dreaming of honeybees long before it was a thing.
And then I moved to Vicksburg, and found a house where I could have a bee corner. I bought my top bar hive, and waited for another year to roll around. Found someone who would sell me the bees, and set aside the time to drive a 6-hour round trip to get them.
Just not yet.
I know, I know. It is only a few more weeks. And yes, there is almost certainly no clearer indication of a first world problem than being upset that you have to wait to get HEALTHY bees for your hobby, instead of having them now. But I really do feel like I was ready for Christmas and woke up to 'Oh, yeah, by the way, we moved Christmas this year.'
I pouted and groused and grumped and eventually worked my way into a foul mood.
Kathe showed remarkable patience with me.
Some interesting things might be happening, though. There is a woman who lives an hour and a half away who is looking to give her late husband's beekeeping equipment - boxes and stuff - to novice beekeepers. A member of the group asked for some help picking up and distributing the goodies. There might even be a chance to purchase extra stuff that is not yet put together, and expand my operation. (I think we might have a two-hive maximum at the house.)
I had already contacted a tree cutting service to offer my services to remove hives from trees that they are cutting. I also went to the National Park Service to ask if I could set up a bait box in a tree in the park to catch any swarms that come through. I even asked the gardeners who keep a garden in the park itself if they would be willing to have a nearby hive....
I am working a bunch of angles. Some will pan out, and others won't. But I am all in. And ready for the chance.
When it happens, it will be like Christmas Day.
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