Telling the Bees

NOTE: This is part of the new novel I am writing. I am posting it here as a diversion for readers who may be living under shelter-in-place policies while the world waits for the coronavirus pandemic to pass. For an explanation of this project, please click here.

Telling the Bees
March 16, 2018 ~ Sangre Mesa

Morgan wasn’t technically the bees’ new keeper — she’d helped Daddy with them enough times to be comfortable handling the smoker, prying off the inner hive cover, pulling frames out, and brushing the bees away so she could inspect the comb — but he was the one who’d set up the hive before she was old enough to understand what was going on, and it seemed only decent to adhere to tradition and let them know what had happened. They were a link to her father, and she wasn’t about to risk losing them by shirking her sad duty.

Brushing away a tear, she set down her bag and extracted a large sheet of black fabric. Working quickly in the predawn shadows, she draped it over the hive and set a paving stone on top to keep the wind from blowing it away. Sinking to her knees, she pressed her forehead against the outside of the wooden broodchamber and spoke softly; a stranger could have been forgiven for thinking she was praying to the colony. Continue reading Telling the Bees