Our First Jar of Honey

Last spring, my wife and I installed two beehives in our backyard. We'd read three books and watched countless videos, but nothing prepared us for the first time we opened the lid and saw thousands of bees going about their business.

We were terrified. We wore full suits, veils and gloves, and moved so slowly it took an hour to check one box. The bees ignored us completely.

All summer, we watched them. We sat in lawn chairs a safe distance away and drank iced tea while they flew in and out, legs heavy with yellow pollen. We learned their moods: calm in the morning, busy at noon, cranky before rain.

In September, we harvested. Three frames, dripping gold. We spun the honey out by hand in the garage and filled twenty-two jars. It tasted like clover and the linden tree down the street.

We gave jars to every neighbor whose flowers our bees had visited. Their thank-you notes are stuck all over our fridge.