I actually use this phrasing, or at least consider it in my head more than one would think. But the rhyming is so excellent, how can you not? It's either that or I was a 1920's flapper girl in another life and the lingo is still stuck in my head. Either way it applies to our weekend home in WI where we got to visit a close friend of ours, Scott and his newly beegun bee colony. (See what I did there, beegun.) Ok, I'll stop now.
Scott was so kind as to give me what I deemed as the most important but also the most fun job of smoking out the bees!
The smoke acts as a blocker between bee communication so that they remain calm as we invade their home. Drunk bees.
Searching for the Queen Bee!
This was actually heavier than you might think, and I had to be oh so gentle with it so that I wouldn't smush one of the precious honey bees.
(But then I accidentally did. Sorry Scott)
See the bee's proboscis licking up the sugar water?
Scott the bee keeper, Ian the photographer, David the husband.
A special thanks to Scott for the bee education and the experience. As previously discussed I can now cross this off of my not yet existent bucket list. Also a special thanks to Ian Roberts Photography. Yours looked way better than mine. ;)
Between controlling the smoke can, killing possibly threatening larvae, chewing wax, and the eminent threat of bee aggression this truly was "the bees knees!" (the concentrated goodness to be found around a bee's knee) I like it!