With fingers crossed, I could hear my heartbeat race as I approached the hive. Two seasons have come and gone while I cared or this hive, and I fear I have failed. In the beginning, my heart would be racing for fear of being stung, but those days are well behind me. Today, I just want them to be alive, and if they sting me in the process, so be it. When I looked into the hive two weeks ago, I peered through the escape hole on the inner cover and saw no movement. I feared the worst.
Loosening the tie-down strap to free the garden cover, I peered inside, hoping to find some small sign of life; even a flicker would do. I braced myself for what other experienced beeks have said would happen eventually – I would find a dead hive. I was prepared as mentally as I could be. I had done my best, and if that wasn’t good enough, I would regroup, and try again this spring. And then a small miracle happened, and I literally danced for joy.