On our way up to Angelfire, we stopped for lunch at the home of an old friend and her family outside of Santa Fe. My sweet friend has created a beautiful life for herself and that makes me happy. I could go on and on in awe and praise of her, but I'll focus on one element of her cool life. She's a beekeeper.
She also raises chickens. In the past, I have approached Not Don about joining the Urban Chicken Movement by adding some laying hens to our backyard. He shut that idea down hard. For some reason, he doesn't envision a chicken coop where the pool should be. But I've never approached him about a bee hive. Maybe a hive is more appealing than a coop, and honey more desirable than eggs. We need to talk about it.
What's to talk about? Raising bees is beyond alien to me. They sting. I'm freaked out about Africanized Honey Bees (aka killer bees). It takes work to care for them and harvest the honey. They sting. Do I even like honey? It all seemed so reasonable and possible talking with my delightful friend over a beer...at her lovely adobe home...in the valley outside of Santa Fe.
I'm calling the Texas Honeybee Guild when I get back to Dallas, just to inquire. I have never been a member of a guild before, so there is that. (I hope they have bumper stickers. Anyone in a guild should have a bumper sticker.)
I started this blog in February 2010 as a Lenten exercise in discipline. I posted something daily during Lent, whether I had anything interesting to say or not.
I also pledged to myself that I would dance each day during Lent. I walked away from the blog for much of the five years since. I'm inching back.
I am mistakenly called Stacy on a frequent basis by people I've just met, and sometimes by people I've known for awhile. I am Not Stacy.