this week in homesteading: I HAVE A BEE VEIL

We were standing in the machine shed of the President of the Iowa Honey Producers Association.  Mid-March is a busy time of preparation and anticipation of honey production … for those like this gentleman, who manages 4,000 hives, and for us — starting off with our two  little hives.

The stacks of unfinished pine continued to rise — all sorts of pieces that make no sense to me.  Except for one item that looked like a new wardrobe addition.

bee1
About halfway through gathering our supplies. The yellow boxes in the back are finished hives. They are painted this bright hue so they can be easily distinguishable in the almond fields of California.

These are bee veils, I was told, and then I was treated to a demonstration of how this fetching accessory works: wear a straw hat, stretch it over the crown of the hat and over your face, and truss yourself up with the extra-long cords attached.

These veils exist to keep a flying insect equipped with a ass-stinger from FLYING INTO YOUR FACE.

And this is when my husband decides to extend a romantic gesture:

“I bought two.  One for me … and one for you.”

love is having your husband order you your very own bee veil.
love is having your husband order you your very own bee veil.

This is the next step in our homesteading adventure–beekeeping.  Honey and pollen and queens and inevitable injury and beekeeping.

BEEKEEPING.

I know nothing.  We have nothing built.  But I have my veil.

This will be interesting.

Special recognition to Pat, the President mentioned at the top, and his wife, Peg, for their hospitality and teaching.  One of the best things about starting this journey, in a place like Iowa, is the people you meet and the relationships you develop when everyone and everything is a teacher.