I try to be all cool about the bee sting thing, but truly I am not fearless around bees. For example, yesterday Ellen and I visited the home of our favorite beekeeper, Mary Duane, for a final bee book photo shoot. The idea was that we would help her harvest honey, capturing images of and fascinating facts about the process along the way.
Fascinating fact number one: honey right out of the hive is irresistible. The smell is intoxicating and the stickiness is endearing (at least to a newbie like me) and the taste, good lord, the taste is incredible. Mary let us try comb honey … the wax/honey mixture that is a by product of the harvesting process. It looks like this:
Ellen and I went outside to take that photo in the natural light, and we planned to follow it with a shot of me popping the comb honey into my mouth. But then this happened:
And as soon as I saw the bee on my hand I FREAKED. I screamed. I ran. And the bees followed me, of course, because I had raw honey in my hand. Ellen and Mary say I was quite entertaining; Ellen was laughing so hard she couldn’t even get a photo of the rediculousness.
Not so cool.
What is cool, though, is that we bottled some of the honey I helped to harvest, and there is a dollop of that honey in the cup of tea sitting here beside me, and I will drink that sweet tea as I begin to write the final chapter of the bee book today.
Very cool, indeed.