I want to introduce you to my bees first. Everyone knows honey bees are good for the environment, but few people know why or how their hives are organized. There’s a division of labor for every stage of a honey bee’s life. Every bee has his or her job to do to ensure they continue to coexist as one. Everything they do is to preserve the colony. Humanity could take a few lessons from them. You’ll see what I mean as time goes on, the same way I came to gradually understand them. In any case, I loved the time I spent with my bees because, despite their intense activity, it was so serene. Serenity was in short supply around here. The good news was that there was zero chance of Momma following me out to the apiary. She wouldn’t come near the hives out of fear. I keep telling her she’s not sweet enough to sting. She doesn’t think that’s funny.

The apiary was in the back corner of our yard, surrounded by a pale blue picket fence, painted thusly to keep out the haints. Haints is a Gullah word for haunts or ghosts. In this part of the world, the Lowcountry of South Carolina, it was generally accepted that a thoughtful application of blue paint would keep a whole array of spirits at bay, ranging from the mischievous ilk to the downright evil. I just happened to like the color. The fence was covered on the inside perimeter with clear mesh to thwart other enemies of the hive—mainly raccoons. My hives were aqua, pale pink, and pale peach. The pastel colors made me feel like I was taking a short trip to Bermuda, and when I looked at them it always lifted my spirits.

I looked up to see the UPS truck pull up to our curb. Andy, our regular UPS deliveryman, hopped off his truck and called out to me.

“Hey, Miss Holly! Sure is a fine day!”

“Yes, it is!” I called back because I didn’t want to get into a whole conversation about planet Earth actually having a meltdown. “Your rear passenger tire is about to blow, you know.”

“I’ll get that checked out! Thanks for the warning!” he called back to me. “I’ll just throw this on the porch?”

“That’s fine!”

It was probably something from QVC that Momma ordered. That’s what she did all day. Sat up in her big bed and watched QVC and ordered large housedresses and sweats decorated with kittens and mermaids, which she thought were stylish and appropriate for church, on the rare occasion that she actually attended Mass. I’m not judging. Okay, maybe I am.