it will bee ok

The sun was fading quickly behind a stormcloud and the air was thick with bees. Flying in every direction at once. Electric with anticipation,  I opened up the hive with fidgety hands. It was roaring. In the green light that only glows during an evening summer storm hiatus, I searched the dark, glistening combs for the queen.

Frame after frame I searched. Resisting the urge to swat for fear of mistaking a bee for a mosquito, I let my blood for the thirsty hoards. The bees crawled curiously over my fingertips, palms, the crease of my elbow with a firm, sticky grip. Frame after frame of workers, drones, young fuzzy bees, old tattered ones, juicy white larvae. One newborn struggling out of her waxy womb. I saw everyone but the queen. 

My mind is crawling with bees, their hum blocks out all other thoughts. I know, before I even turn out the light, that they will dominate my dreams.  

It would have been nice to find the queen, to carry out my plan to make a neat hive split and mold the force of nature to my tidy square boxes and orderly frames. But nature cannot always be coaxed to my will.

In fact, nature has been asserting her dominance over me all month. The bees are doing their own thing in spite of my interference. The tendrils of my cucuzza squash are reaching for everything but their intended trellis. My kombucha mother is converting sugar water in ways I cannot predict or influence. My houseplants shrivel in the meticulously ideal conditions I have created for them.

Despite (or because of) my insignificance in the natural order of all my hobbies, they worked themselves out. The bees are making their own queens. The squash tendrils found a sunflower to grow up. The symbiotic mama ended up making some nice bubbly sweet tea. And the houseplants are still dying, which may be for the best. Things don't always go my way, but they always bee ok.