Bee-less borage: I spooked the one bee I saw this morning. Granted, it was early and the dew was up, but normally, it’s not one bee I annoy with the camera: it’s dozens.
This was to be the year that we got honeybees for our farm. I’ve done a lot of research, and let me tell you: hives are very complex things. Maybe it’s just the very social nature of the insect, but I find the ins and outs of beekeeping rather complicated. (Complicated, but not too much: I think my biggest downfall as a human is this oft-uttered statement: “Well, how hard can THAT be?”) Human society confuses me at times, too: I will never understand war, for example.
Of course, Colony Collapse Disorder is out there. Out there, and out HERE too. My bee guy (who, coincidentally, is my goat guy) has 20+ hives. ALL ARE DEAD. He doesn’t move his hives; he doesn’t live in a biological wasteland; he doesn’t do anything that would make his bees susceptible. There are no known beekeepers near him. Yet, pfft, all dead. He is very worried.
I plant many inedible flowering things within the veg garden to attract honeybees, and the more ubiquitous bumblebees (those little aerodynamic marvels: how DO they fly, they’re so big) and mason bees and the like. I still do see some honeybees on the parsnip umbrels and beautiful blue borage, and I see some worrying over the yard’s clover, but there are not nearly the numbers I have seen in the past. The bee balm, too: it’s empty, save the hummingbirds.
I am not alone in worrying, it seems. I will keep planting pollinator-friendly things, and keep my fingers crossed. My bee and goat guy got a few nucs and hopes to be able to give me one in a year. So, maybe next year? Maybe?