Today, I feel really mean.
I don’t believe it can be helped and it’s not anyone’s fault – just circumstance and practicality. But I feel mean and cruel and sad because on Friday, I killed a lot of bees.
I like bees. I like honey. I’m quite happy for them to do their bee-thing. So much so, they’ve been in our chimney for the last twelve years. We actually bought the house with the bees though it wasn’t a selling point the realtor mentioned. We’ve never used the fireplace and the previous owners didn’t either, and the bees could be bees while I dreamed of a glass chimney so I could marvel at their architecture, and a tap, so I could sample their produce.
But, we received a complaint from the council (ie. a neighbour complained to the council) and while we vaguely attempted to deal with it, the bees never left. As we didn’t get another complaint we kind-of let the problem, uh, grow.
We have two chimneys. We think they may have out-grown our first and sought a second. Which is fine, except it’s on the low side of the house and a little more in-your-face, and my mother is severely allergic to bees and they might have found a way into our house.
But apart from that, it’s great! *smiles manically*
Today, we saw bees swarming around our neighbour’s house and I’m not sure we achieved anything.
Suggestion for the bees: Build a hive in a tree like normal bees or find a apiarist, they’ll love you.