| David Gane

Bees don't care

I was thinking about my Dad yesterday. He passed away several years ago, but back when he was around, he was a beekeeper. Like most people working in agriculture, he never really had the option to take a day off.

If the honey needed to be pulled off the hive, he'd take out his crew, even if the weather wasn't at all in his favour.

I don't know what it's like now, but back then you had a few tools at your disposal to get the bees out of the hive. You had your smoker, which would push the bees down, as well as fume boards which you sprayed with a strong, odorous bee repellant.

Unfortunately, the type of repellant Dad used needed the sun to activate the chemical, so on cooler or cloudy days or when the wind would push underneath the fume boards, the bees wouldn't budge.

However, this setback didn't stop him and we'd be out there working and the bees wouldn't be moving and slowly they'd be getting more and more angry.

Needless to say, we got stung a lot.

Yet, knowing this outcome didn't stop Dad from going out anyway, day after day, year after year when it was time to harvest honey—even when the weather only promised him misery.

He'd wake up three or four hours early, head out to the honey house before anyone showed up and fill barrels with honey and fix broken machines and plan the day. He'd go out when he was tired and his muscles were sore and his back hurt and he had a summer cold.

And I'm pretty certain he'd go out a lot of times when he wondered why he kept being a beekeper and why he couldn't just get a break from bad luck for just one stinkin' day.

But he kept doing it.

And I think about myself, when I'm not in the mood to write or exercise.

Because, like the bees, the book or the weights don't care. If this is what I want to do, then I need to get off my ass and do it, no matter what the bees or the day has in store.

Tags: Reflections

Leave a comment