In quick succession, a lot of things happened after a period of seemingly nothing happening.
First, back in February, I found out that I (and about 30 co-workers/friends) would be losing our jobs. I worked as a copywriter within a team of other writers and designers producing in-store circulars and such for a retailer. We were under contract with the retailer and, as the saying goes, at the end of the day, the retailer decided not to renew our contract this year. It was heartbreaking, really. I had never worked with such a great team and I really loved just about everyone I worked with. The contract ends at the end of this month, but by now, most of the people I work with have found other jobs. I was actually starting to sweat it when I hadn’t found a job by the end of March. But then, things usually happen pretty quickly. I got a call on a Sunday during a lunch date with my husband. I went in for an interview on Tuesday, accepted the position that evening, and was gone from my old job about a week later.
My last day, of course, was a Friday. And I would be starting my new job on the following Monday. That Friday evening, we finally go the call to come pick up our bees the next morning. So, after all the waiting for a job and bees, everything was slammed into fast-forward.
We got the bees. We got stung. I wondered what the hell we’d gotten ourselves into. I’d never felt such relief as when we came home late that first night and saw our hives sitting peacefully quiet in the back yard. Bees go to sleep! I felt like I had accomplished something. But we still had to transfer our nucs into the hives the next day. By then, though, the girls had a chance to calm down after their long car ride trapped inside cardboard boxes.
Now the girls go about their business. Rowdy, our bumbling white pit bull, had one stinger in his muzzle the first weekend. But now it seems like we’ve all learned to live together. The bees don’t even stop their work when we mow the back yard. Here’s a picture of me working the hives a couple of weekends ago. I’ve taken to it just like, um, a bee takes to gathering nectar.
My husband, a photojournalist in a former life, got his camera out for the first time in about two years when the bees finally discovered their water source in our front flower bed. We used a big plastic dish from the feed store. We filled it with lava rocks so the bees have a place to rest (and not drown) while they drink. They can even get water out of the lava rocks. The water is close to our front door, and the bees couldn’t care less about our coming or going.
And here’s a picture of a guard bee making sure she doesn’t need to sting me in the back of the head. Which is really fun, let me assure you: having a dead bee AND a stinger tangled up in your hair.
I also had a birthday and celebrated our 7th wedding anniversary. Oh, and marriage equality finally came to my corner of the country, which has given me the occasion to shed many a happy tear.
I am totally jealous of your industrial nature. Come back to Atlanta when you want to, you know, just sit around.