On beekeeping.

"Do not open before closing."

[Quick tips in slow motion.]

On beekeeping.

My ex-wife's father started it a few years back. Then he quits all of a sudden and hands me his hives with the bees in them. What is to be done now, I wondered at that moment. He told me that my beekeeping time was on, so I started gathering information about gathering honey. It was kinda fun, so I wanted to pass it to my son as soon as I can. The little bastard is an artist of some sort - he's writing things nobody can appreciate, and with a lot of crap in it too, but he cals it shit - like it's more valuable that way. Kids these days. I don't know.

"No time to loose, come on, son," I shout to get his ass out of bed and in motion. He comes outside a fat hour later. His face covered with a I-don't-wanna attitude. "We're going to do something great today by yourself, ha-ha-ha." My little bastard don't appreciate my humor, God forgive him, because I sure can't. I gather myself together: "Okay, what to do with you... Aha! I have something highly artistic for you today. You'll paint my hives beautiful. There are all tools you need for it in the basement, next to those ugly hives in need of new paint." He's bitching in his head, you could see it in his eyes. "I'll check my darlings out in the field. It's a beautiful day. They're already working hard on them flowers, I tell you that! Goodbye son. Make me proud..." For once - I hold the thought in my head.

I can't help but sing it with the band on the radio broadcast while driving across the landscape with no houses left, surrounded by fields of corn, potato and such. For it is truly my favorite song about worshiping our good savior Jesus Christ. The sun is way up and there is no cloud to mess up with it's view of Earth. I can already see my bee-house. As I drive toward it, strange premonition grows with me approaching toward the bees.

Crime unfolds before my eyes the moment before I thrust car-door open to run and to inspect closely. Some motherfucker must have put a drop or two of schnapps in his bee-food because one family - unknown to me - went berserk on my babies! Who do they think they are, acting like bunch of Japanese giants, and just like them hornets they kill and steal the honey from my hives as I cry helplessly. I try to catch them by closing the hive-doors, but I came too late. The attack was at it's final stage so most of the bees were dead, dying or had already left.

"Son, fuck the decorations, come here!" I yelled from the driver seat. No response. A car window is closed, I then notice, so I open it and shout again. The bastard comes out after I remember to throw tools for faster forgiveness on the trunk trailer, before the boy managed to fasten his seat-belt, I hit the pedal.

We are stupid-tired, almost out of gas and the evening sky holds almost no light for us anymore, as we are driving home from the fields. We took the other road back. We stop at the back of our last bee-house and I say to the boy: "You see, it's all about spending time together." I'm putting beehives on trailer truck while he splashes remaining gasoline on bee-house wall, I say to him: "This one's all yours, son."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2P7Q1ncgcoY