Bee Happy by Marcia C Brandt Page A

felt herself relaxing into the rhythm of the earth and the connection to the soil.  She looked at the rich soil they had created with all their composting efforts.  Roger really did know how to build the perfect soil for their garden.  Patting the earth gently over the newly sown seeds, she looked up at the sky, noticing that the white puffy clouds were creating pictures.  As a child she used to lie on the grass and decide what kind of animals were in the sky.  Suddenly she was buzzed by a bee.  Then another one came zooming by her head.  Oh, my, are those two little pesky bees back, the o nes who led me to the bee hives?   She was determined to ignore them and finish planting the spinach.  The next fifteen minutes became a ducking and swatting battle for Calli’s attention.  The bees seemed to create new flight patterns with each fly by.  Calli finally threw down her gardening gloves and started yelling at the bees.  Of course, that didn’t matter to them; they just kept up their dive bombing attacks.  Finally they landed on the bee balm, the same one that they had sat on before.  Calli walked over and stared at them, trying to figure out what they wanted.  Ignoring the fact that she knew perfectly well, what they wanted.  It had been long enough since she left the kitchen and her grandfather was probably headed for the machine shed right at this moment.  This was a losing battle, she knew that she’d have to go there sooner or later and the bees were just the messengers.  Putting everything away, back in the tool shed, she surrendered to the fact that she was going to have to face Roger and the bee hives and his grandfather’s ghost.   What a difference last night had made in her feelings towards becoming a bee keeper.  When it had been her idea and her grandfather was hesitant, she was almost driven to make it happen, to help her grandfather heal by getting the bee hives out and working again.  Now, after learning that his grandfather had been communicating with Roger asking him to get the hives out, she had flipped 180 degrees, not wanting anything to do with the bees or ghosts .   What is the matter with me?  What am I afraid of?  As she continued the questioning in her head, the bees started buzzing around her again.  Okay, I’m going.  See you at the machine shed.  She trudged unwillingly across the yard and saw her grandfather sliding the old door back revealing the broken pieces of long forgotten equipment.  She knew that the hives were in the corner and Roger was going to drag them out whether she wanted to participate or not. 
      Roger had one hive already out of the shed by the time Calli got there.  She hadn’t hurried; in fact she’d walked very slowing wishing she could shift her attitude before she got there.  “Did you get the planting done already?”  He wanted to sound upbeat and positive, knowing that there was uneasiness about his story about talking to his grandfather.  He didn’t want Calli to be afraid of this project or of him for that matter.   “Yes, they are all tucked into the ground and ready to sprout when we get a shower.”  She too wanted to be upbeat and hopefully enjoy this newest project of learning to be a bee keeper.  She just didn’t want any ghosts helping them.  “Help me get the other hive; I think it’s stuck somehow.”  Together they pulled and pulled and finally the last layer of the hive was free from the dirt.  Looking at them out in the sunlight, Roger sighed, “They seem to need a little love and attention, some fresh paint and cleaning.  Do you remember if we used up all the white paint, you know when we were painting the tool shed?”  Roger seemed to be excited about the prospect of getting the hives looking good again.  “I think there’s enough left to cover them with a couple of coats.  I’ll go and get the wire brush and some sand paper.  Where do you want to do this?”  Calli was beginning to shift a