A minute of beevision

This is the second evening in a row I've sat next to Hive 1 and entered a languid dreamlike state. Last night it was so hot and yet overcast, 90 degrees at 6:30, what everyone likes to think of as earthquake weather. I got home from yoga completely wrung out, quickly changed my clothes, grabbed a beer and my book, and went out to sit by the hive, knowing the air would be filled with the intoxicating smell of beeswax and honey, the odor of the colony.

It's extremely atypical for me to do this particular combination of things: grab a beer and a book and sit at that hour of the day. But it was so rewarding. Staring at bees going in and out, though mostly in. Observing crows fly by high overhead as a family of quail (four chicks) wandered through the yard and up into an apple tree. Watching bees delight in the borage. Sipping the beer and reading. Alert and relaxed, almost inside the thrum of the bees.

And tonight again, same story, except this time there is also a party next door adding to the thrum. Joe is in it, I can hear him, his voice rising sometimes above the others as I sit by the hive, drinking water and staring, wishing I didn't have a headache but also perfectly content to be over here alone with Jasper and these thousands of little striped creatures going about their business. It's almost dark and they're still now hanging around on the threshold of the hive, cooling, some meticulously cleaning the stoop, others blowing in still with full loads of pollen.

Tomorrow mid-day we'll take a look inside, but right now, it's just so pleasing to observe them from this vantage point, not mucking about in their beautifully patterned orderly little world. So very sweet.