Buzz Off to a Good Start: How I Fell Into Beekeeping (And Got Stuck There)

I’m not entirely sure when the bee thing started. One minute I was pottering about in the garden, and the next I was signed up for an 8-week beekeeping course, dressed head-to-toe in a suit that made me look like I was either off to the moon or preparing for an aggressive paintball match.

The course, run by the local Beekeeping Society, was a mix of theory (wax this, brood that — I nodded a lot), and hands-on time at the Society’s apiary, where the bees did their best to act unfazed by our fumbling attempts to "inspect" them. I was completely hooked — nervous, excited, and entirely unsure of what I was doing. Perfect combo for a hobby, right?

Then, just as I was buzzing with enthusiasm, fate upped the stakes: a neighbour, who had several hives, was looking to rehome them. Did we want them? I didn’t need asking twice. My inner beekeeper-in-waiting all but shouted, “YES PLEASE!” The offer spurred me on — this was it, the moment beekeeping would become reality.

And then… it didn’t.

Retirement arrived (hooray!), followed by a bit of a whirlwind (less hooray). Life did what life often does: got complicated. Beekeeping had to wait, quietly simmering on the back burner while I dealt with other things. When I finally felt ready and applied for a colony… it turned out to be a terrible year for bees. No colonies available. Nothing. Not even a spare drone.

I started to wonder if the universe was gently (or not so gently) trying to tell me that maybe I was more of a honey eater than a honey maker.

But then — at long last — this year, the stars aligned (and so did the weather), and I was given a colony! Using the bits and pieces kindly donated to me by that same generous neighbour, I built my very first hive. It was placed at the Bee Society apiary to give the bees a chance to settle in and decide if they liked the décor.

For the first few weeks, I wasn’t to disturb them — just let them bond, build, and get comfy. It felt a bit like adopting lodgers and then tiptoeing around the house, hoping they didn't move out.

In the meantime, I rolled up my sleeves (not literally — that stings), and got stuck into learning. I was incredibly lucky to be supported by two generous and knowledgeable beekeepers. But one person in particular deserves a proper shout-out: Mary.

Mary is one of those rare humans who could make inspecting a bin feel inspiring. Her energy, commitment, and passion for beekeeping lit up the entire apiary. She patiently answered my endless questions, let me borrow her wisdom, and — without knowing it — gave me the push I needed to believe I could actually do this. Without Mary, I might still be standing at the edge of the apiary wondering which bit was the queen.

Thanks to her encouragement (and possibly a touch of madness on my part), I now have a colony of my very own. Soon, they'll be coming home — and then the real adventure begins. I'm fully aware there will be challenges. I’ve already had my first two stings (double whammy, one arm, one waist — fashion note: check your bee suit for sneaky gaps). I’ve panicked, hesitated, and occasionally smoked myself more than the hive.

But I’m still here. Still learning. Still laughing (mostly at myself). And honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way.

So whether you’re here for the bee stories, the inevitable mishaps, or just some good old-fashioned nature-based chaos — welcome. This is my beekeeping endeavour.

And it’s only just getting started.

🐝 What about you?

• Have you ever tried your hand at beekeeping — or thought about it?

• What’s the hobby or passion you’ve taken up since retirement (or plan to one day)?

• Do you have any bee-related tales, stings, or sweet successes to share?

Pop your stories in the comments — I’d love to hear from you! Let’s swap tips, stumbles, and wins (preferably the un-stung kind).