I lost interest in the bees.  In the spring and summer of last year it felt like an obsession, even my dreams were filled with bees.  Coming home from work and looking at the activity around the hive/hives became a reflex.  Then the winter came and they hid themselves away, and I hid myself away from them.   I stopped looking at them to the point where they were pushed out onto the edge of my world.  My bee fever broke, and the bee books got shelved.  I worried that it was a fad, an expensive failure of a hobby.

Three days ago I noticed a thin crescent moon in the south west.  I noticed the moon, the  full Growing Moon, on its steady fattening.  I noticed the first hints of green on the hawthorn, and I noticed the bees.  The last two days have been warm enough for them to begin to housekeep and drag out the dead bodies of the winter casualties that, until now, have littered the floors of the hives.  I have noticed all this and I have begun to feel the pull of the spring, the moon and the bees.  Today the reflex of looking at the hives returned and I am beginning to itch.  I want to open up their homes and peer in.  I want to see how they are fairing and help them along, but it feels a little too soon.  Maybe in another week or two I will satisfy my curiosity, and also feed them a little fondant.  I can feel the bee fever coming back.

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