Saturday, August 18, 2012

rain date

Oh I was hoping to be done with honey harvest today.... but it is raining, and you can't pull honey supers in the rain. Or when it's cloudy. Bees do not like cloudy.

It's funny how sway-able I am. Some farm owning friends of mine offered to let me move my hives out there, so when tending time comes, there are more hands on deck. For a moment, I thought this was great. A family! People care! It will be fun! And then I remember - I really don't enjoy beekeeping anymore. I don't plan on living here for much longer, so starting a new bee-yard relationship is irresponsible. I don't need more encumbrances. I do not like the version of me that comes out when beekeeping is intense. As another friend said yesterday, "I think there are things you can do that feel connected with matt that don't involve you being stung repeatedly."

I am just such a try again, and try harder person.

And this is the thing - sometimes, if something is stressful or hard, I think: sweet me, you witnessed matt dying randomly and accidentally. Compared to that, this is nothing. Relax. You can do this. And then other times, faced with something hard and stressful, I think: WTF am I doing? I just watched matt die, randomly and accidentally. Why am I wasting any time at all doing sh*it that makes me mad?

Certainly a context change in there. It comes down to what is worth it and what is not. What is hard, but will help me or be satisfying in the end, and what is hard but not worth the pay off, if there even is any pay off. Will confronting this ease my way at all? Or bring me closer to peacefulness? Or even just create something that I will actually use? I feel like I am walking this line repeatedly in big things and small. Streamlining.

On that note, I am off. Refinishing furniture, finishing a project matt had started. Unlikely to be stung doing it.



  1. Sometimes we have to think in a very practical way. Being stung probably doesn't make you feel any closer to matt - except maybe to remind you of loss. That was a lot of the reason behind me selling our farm. There were always things going wrong there - after Don died, I had th replace the water pump for our well and while i was carrying the new pump downstairs and struggling to get the hoses onto it, etc... I thought to myself, "this is crap. I don't want to be here by myself doing this kind of shit alone!" so I sold out and am happier for it, although I did by the old house in NS which came with its own problems, but they are new problems, chosen and taken on by me alone. I think that makes a difference. Maybe the farm folk would like to take over the hives and even pay you something for them, or at least share some honey with you if you are still in the area. If you miss the bees, you could always volunteer to help them. Streamline. Yes, that is what it is all about. I am doing more of that as we speak as I contmplate maybe taking a very long road trip next spring instead f returning here. As we people know, life is short. Best be picky about how we want to use whatever years remain to us.

    1. exactly. There will always be challenges, but I'd rather have them be in something I choose. This bee-keeping thing has me doing a lot of stuff that, at best, I don't enjoy, like asking repeatedly for help.

      Farm folk will take the hives over completely, at their place, if the current bee yard people don't want me to find someone to tend them in situ, as it were. The reality of ending our life as beekeepers is feeling sad and painful, but not nearly a reason to continue. A chapter closing. It's a sadness for us, not the beekeeping. I seem to be doing this a lot, ending things that are no longer practical or fun. It feels a little brutal and ruthless, but also rather matt-like. He never was one for holding on to a romantic notion in the face of reality.

  2. If it is any consolation, being ruthless about paring away that which is no longer fun seems to get easier - at least I have found that to be the case. Over time, good new things have moved in to take their place - like playing the fiddle. It has become a passion over the past few months and I think it safe to say that it is something that will continue to bring me great enjoyment in the months and maybe even years to come. Traveling to new places also means more, while gardening and working on he house is gradually meaning less. I am learning to travel lighter and am divesting myself of most of our remaining belongings other than the art and ceramics we loved and collected together. Don would love to be doing what I am doing now. I like to think of him somehow drifting along with me on these adventures.

  3. oh, I really needed to read this today. Thank you both.