“The Art and Adventure of Beekeeping” by Ormond and Harry Aebi.

I will not be a beekeeper. That is not the purpose. The purpose is to not shudder at the mention of bees. I am allergic. Absolutely to yellow jackets which are actually wasps. Possibly to honeybees, but I do not have that as clear as I do the yellow jackets. The phrasing was always shortened to “allergic to bee stings” and if my mum were alive I do not know that even she knows if honeybees are part of the allergy. But the Fear of the Sting remains. I can kill wasps and have only a smidgen of guilt. That is not true of any other insect. Mostly I don’t kill insects. I tell where they can live and I take them there. Often that is outside. Even the annoying stinkbugs who death traps people describe in gleeful tones I capture and set outside. The wasps I kill. I do still apologize to the things before I kill them like I do to any insect I make die. I just don’t feel the same amount of angst over their death.

The book. The cover is a photo of a group of bees on a hive. An enlarged photo. Ack! So, I’ve learned thoroughly the negative side of bees and wasps. I need to learn their positive side. A more balanced view. Bee energy. The Bee. It is important.

~shudder~

What the hell was I thinking – a body allergic to bees? Insanity.

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