Just at the start of May, already I have a red neck and a farmer tan and a nearly-ready crop of chard, but no bees in the hive.
I’ve tried to be zen-garden cool about by a gang of yellowjackets last summer. The flying thugs moved on the hive during corn-on-the-cob season, when I was feeling especially grateful for the work the gentle girls had done. The yellowjackets pillaged, killed and consumed, leaving nothing but empty comb.
I stowed the box for the winter, trying to think of it as just another fall clean-up task.
As the days lengthened, I put the hive back out and put my name on a list for leads on any available swarms, close-to-the ground colonies looking for a new place to set up shop.
I’ve left alfalfa and dandelions in the garden as early-season food and planted columbine for later in the season.
Last weekend, my anxiety nearly bubbled over. My neighbor Jennifer and I stared at the hive, watching as a few bees scouted the opening, like renters checking out a potential place. No takers.
But then I remembered the stumpy mason bees bumbling through navy pinwheels of mountain bluet and realized that the wild pollinators are taking care of my garden, even if my hive is empty.
Dana Coffield: dcoffield@denverpost.com, 303-954-1954 or twitter.com/denpostdana
