I had been stung a few times by bees and I wasn’t interested in getting any more.
“Don’t worry about it. I used to be an apiarist. It’s what we did when we first came to the area.”
“What’s an apiarist got to do with bees?”
“A lot actually, and it’s got nothing at all to do with ape keeping. Lorna and I lived in a deserted house near the Whangamomona road. It was very isolated, even for theseparts. I used to go around persuading farmers they needed bees on their land. I built up quite a good little business. Mind you, we had no rent, no electricity and we fetched all the water in buckets from a creek.”
“Doesn’t sound like fun to me.”
“We loved it. Our lives were stripped to the essentials. It was a great antidote to everything we had in Sydney. We were reverse pioneers, like Thoreau when he went to Walden Pond.”
“Who’s this Thoreau dude then?”
“Oh, he’s a guy who did the same thing in America.”
“He tell you about it?”
“No, he’s long dead. Hold on … maybe he did just that.” He laughed and knuckled my head the way Dad used to when I was small. I thought of the “old Dad”, the one who used to be around when Mum was there. It gave me a sudden stab.
“So this is what you did after the Mackthuselah period?” I blurted.
“Yeah, we hung out as long as we could but when the twins came the washing and baby stuff got all too much so we had to look for somewhere more civilised.”
Uncle Frank had the tops off the hives and was pulling out the honeycombs one by one. He didn’t seem to notice that he had a bunch of ultra pissed-off bees circling his face. He was one of those guys who didn’t bother with details.
“Eventually Lorna’s compo payment came through and we had enough to buy the farm outright.”
“What happened to the guy who drove the car?”
He wiped a bee off the end of his nose as if it were a fly.
“When he got out of hospital … we had done some pretty bad damage to him … he was tried and did a spell in jail.”
“It must have been good to get that money.”
“True. But it carried its own cargo of responsibility. We knew we had to do something special with it.” Then after a moment he said, “Come here, Sandy, look at this.”
I approached with a couple of steps, but nothing in the world would get me any closer.
“See this big bee here?”
“Yep,” I said, although I couldn’t.
“It’s the queen. The only female in the hive. Eats special food called royal jelly. Lives in a temperature-controlled environment. Just like air conditioning. Doesn’t matter how hot or cold it is outside, it is always the same in here.”
“You’d better put that honeycomb back, you must be making a real bad draught.”
After that we drove slowly back to the house. Uncle Frank told me all about the mysterious qualities of the hexagon. The bad things about the square world that everyone else lived in. About harmony and discord, and how bees talked through a bee dance.
Once you got him going there was no stopping him. Uncle Frank was one of those guys who was interested in everything . All the weird stuff you can point a stick at, but I didn’t mind. As Julius said to Cleopatra, “When in Rome, Cleo, do as the Romans do”. That’s what Dad used to say anyway.
E NCOUNTERS WITH N ATURE
ONE of my regular chores was that I got to feed this cute little black pig called Pimpernel. Uncle Frank made it clear that he was my responsibility and if I didn’t look after him, he would starve. I’d never had a pet before so I didn’t know what to do here either. It’s like I was dumb: everyone else seemed to know everything. Sounds silly now but it still drove me a bit crazy sometimes.
Pimpernel wandered around in the small paddock next to the house. It was all his except for the bits given over to the goat, and the tractor shed. There was plenty of grass but it soon became clear that grass is not enough for a growing pig. What he really wanted
“Don’t worry about it. I used to be an apiarist. It’s what we did when we first came to the area.”
“What’s an apiarist got to do with bees?”
“A lot actually, and it’s got nothing at all to do with ape keeping. Lorna and I lived in a deserted house near the Whangamomona road. It was very isolated, even for theseparts. I used to go around persuading farmers they needed bees on their land. I built up quite a good little business. Mind you, we had no rent, no electricity and we fetched all the water in buckets from a creek.”
“Doesn’t sound like fun to me.”
“We loved it. Our lives were stripped to the essentials. It was a great antidote to everything we had in Sydney. We were reverse pioneers, like Thoreau when he went to Walden Pond.”
“Who’s this Thoreau dude then?”
“Oh, he’s a guy who did the same thing in America.”
“He tell you about it?”
“No, he’s long dead. Hold on … maybe he did just that.” He laughed and knuckled my head the way Dad used to when I was small. I thought of the “old Dad”, the one who used to be around when Mum was there. It gave me a sudden stab.
“So this is what you did after the Mackthuselah period?” I blurted.
“Yeah, we hung out as long as we could but when the twins came the washing and baby stuff got all too much so we had to look for somewhere more civilised.”
Uncle Frank had the tops off the hives and was pulling out the honeycombs one by one. He didn’t seem to notice that he had a bunch of ultra pissed-off bees circling his face. He was one of those guys who didn’t bother with details.
“Eventually Lorna’s compo payment came through and we had enough to buy the farm outright.”
“What happened to the guy who drove the car?”
He wiped a bee off the end of his nose as if it were a fly.
“When he got out of hospital … we had done some pretty bad damage to him … he was tried and did a spell in jail.”
“It must have been good to get that money.”
“True. But it carried its own cargo of responsibility. We knew we had to do something special with it.” Then after a moment he said, “Come here, Sandy, look at this.”
I approached with a couple of steps, but nothing in the world would get me any closer.
“See this big bee here?”
“Yep,” I said, although I couldn’t.
“It’s the queen. The only female in the hive. Eats special food called royal jelly. Lives in a temperature-controlled environment. Just like air conditioning. Doesn’t matter how hot or cold it is outside, it is always the same in here.”
“You’d better put that honeycomb back, you must be making a real bad draught.”
After that we drove slowly back to the house. Uncle Frank told me all about the mysterious qualities of the hexagon. The bad things about the square world that everyone else lived in. About harmony and discord, and how bees talked through a bee dance.
Once you got him going there was no stopping him. Uncle Frank was one of those guys who was interested in everything . All the weird stuff you can point a stick at, but I didn’t mind. As Julius said to Cleopatra, “When in Rome, Cleo, do as the Romans do”. That’s what Dad used to say anyway.
E NCOUNTERS WITH N ATURE
ONE of my regular chores was that I got to feed this cute little black pig called Pimpernel. Uncle Frank made it clear that he was my responsibility and if I didn’t look after him, he would starve. I’d never had a pet before so I didn’t know what to do here either. It’s like I was dumb: everyone else seemed to know everything. Sounds silly now but it still drove me a bit crazy sometimes.
Pimpernel wandered around in the small paddock next to the house. It was all his except for the bits given over to the goat, and the tractor shed. There was plenty of grass but it soon became clear that grass is not enough for a growing pig. What he really wanted
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