This photo was taken in my yard on Sunday afternoon.
That’s my hand.
And those are a few of my “girls” — did you know all worker honeybees are female?.
This is for someone signing himself “Gary” who emailed me this morning. Gary wanted to tell me that “Chicks are not good with bugs” and therefore he “can not believe” in the existence of my bees, he says…
Who on earth pretends to be a beekeeper?
I mean, it’s not like pretending to be a proctologist when you’re stuck beside a really boring gabber on a long plane flight. It’s not like pretending to be interested in football for the first three weeks of dating a Riders fan. And it’s not at all like pretending you enjoyed your mother’s deep-fried wombat casserole…
So the question remains. Does “Gary” think that I’m sadly self-deluded, or that I have some mysterious and sinister purpose in claiming membership in the fraternity of apiculture? We’re not sure, and — alas — I can’t ask him directly, because he used a fake email address.
So all I can do is say, “Yes, Gary-whoever-you-are, I do keep bees. See? There they are now.”
And guess what else? —
Oh, what the heck, I’ll throw in a portrait of one of my queen bees getting ready to lay an egg, and another photo of some field bees coming home with saddlebags of bright yellow pollen…
Just to share my joy in the miracles of Nature. And because my little honeymaking girls are pretty darned sweet.
(Click the thumbnails for bigger pics, if you’re interested.)
And if you’ve got the slightest doubt that these are the bees of a Domestik Goddess, check out the lovely retro 1950s ice-cream-parlour green that I’ve custom-mixed and used to paint the bottom boards on all my hives.
My honey-collection boxes (not shown here) are a lovely coordinating retro pink, by the way. True. And I’ve got the photos to prove it.