To bee or not to bee...

10:36 PM - Oct. 4, 2005 - Add to the Wildness

"Hey, kids, this is our new blog.  Let's say something about our farm."

"Well, we do bees, that much we know," says the nine-year-old.

Our honey farm is located six miles from nowhere.  That's usually how I give directions to it.

"Where is nowhere?" asks the nine-year-old, reading along.

"Kenton," I say.

"Oh," says the nine-year-old.

The kids are sitting near me, musing about the farm and what it involves.  We're not "real" farmers, the way people think of it in this area.  We have 28 hives and a dream to bring Dad home from his 12-hour, alternating shifts an hour away from home.

Do we love bees?

"No," say the nine-year-old and the seven-year-old promptly, as they read my typing.  But Dad does, and Dad's the one who makes the living.

We are blessed.

"Kids, count your blessings."

"I haven't had that many blessings," says Peter, who at age nine has yet to visit the soup kitchen in the city or meet a homeless person.

"Going to Auntie Julie's," says Anna, bright and full of the simplicity of seven years.

"I'd rather go the countwy," says Brian.  He's three.  He doesn't know he is in the country. 

"I'd rather go to the zoo," says Talitha, five years and full of beans.

And presto, we're off-topic.  Typical of our homeschool.  The three-year-old is hitting the keyboard tray with his knee, while the five-year-old is trying to lick him up the side of the head with a very wet tongue.  We are at the zoo already, guys.  AKA the Funny Farm.

AKA Lazy Creek.  Welcome, thou unsuspecting.

"Brian!  Put the lion away and go to bed!"